Life As Dean Knows It
by Supervillegirl
Summary: AU. Dean wakes up to find himself somewhere he wishes he wasn't. He soon finds out his life isn't what it seems. Angst!Dean. Season Six story.
1. Chapter 1

"Life As Dean Knows It"

Set after 6.07 "Family Matters"

Chapter One

Dean moaned as he tried to burrow his head further into his pillow.

_What the hell happened last night? _Dean wondered.

He and Sam had hunted down a vampire on a rampage. And Dean had had enough with vampires to last him for a long time, having recently been turned into a vampire and cured. The vampire had gotten pissed at Sam, thanks to Sam's cocky, I-don't-care attitude, had used him as a punching bag while Dean approached him from behind to decapitate him. The vampire had stopped Dean and hit him once or twice before Sam had decapitated him.

Dean had helped Sam back to the car, taken him back to the motel and patched him up. He'd forced Sam to get in bed to take it easy on the stitches.

"But, Dean, you know I'm not going to sleep," Sam had argued.

"I don't care," Dean had said, shoving Sam down onto the mattress. "Watch the TV, surf for porn, I don't care. Just rest and heal."

"Yes, Mom," Sam had growled.

"Hey, don't argue with me," Dean had said. "Stay in bed."

Dean had tossed the remote and laptop onto Sam's bed.

"Hey, watch it!" Sam had warned.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Dean had told him, heading for the bathroom. "Don't get up."

Dean had gotten into bed immediately after his shower. Now, however, it felt as though **he** had been the one the vampire had beat on instead of Sam.

_What the hell?_ Dean thought.

His muscles ached…**all over.** He felt as though the vampire had thrown him down six flights of stairs after using his head as a bat. Not to mention, there was a strange sensation all over, a bugs-under-the-skin feeling that made him want to shake it off.

Dean raised a hand to his head, rubbing it back and forth across his forehead.

"Sam, what happened to me last night?" Dean asked.

Silence greeted him, and Dean was immediately confused. Sam couldn't have fallen asleep; he doesn't need to. And he wouldn't have just left while Dean was asleep—now, wait, that was exactly what Sam would have done. Without a soul, Sam didn't give a crap about Dean.

Dean tried to open his eyes to see if Sam was gone, but the light blinded him, and he slammed his eyes closed again.

_Jeez, Sam,_ Dean thought. _You could've at least left the light off._

Dean threw an arm over his eyes, listening to the room around him.

"Sam?" Dean called. There was no response. Dean raised his voice. "Sam, you still here?"

There was still no response, so Dean assumed Sam was probably out getting them breakfast.

"Dammit, Sam, I told you to stay put," Dean moaned.

_Stubborn bastard,_ Dean thought. _I can't wait till we get his soul back._

Dean was content to lie on the bed and relax for the moment. He listened to the sounds of the morning, expecting to hear the cars driving by on the highway next to the motel, the birds flying overhead, the couple fighting in the next room over. What Dean did not expect was the complete silence pressing in on him.

Dean frowned, analyzing the room around him. Not a sound reached Dean's ears. In fact, now that he thought about it, his voice had echoed in a strange way when he'd called Sam's name. There was even a strange smell, like disinfectant and disease, the same annoying smell hospital hallways gave off.

Now that Dean was giving all sense except his sight his full attention, he noticed the bed was not as hard as he remembered. And he seemed to be wearing pants. He could have sworn he went to sleep in his boxers. There was also some kind of plastic bracelet on his left wrist.

_Did Sam take me to the hospital?_ Dean wondered. _Was I hurt worse than I thought? Maybe someone attacked in the middle of the night._

Dean quickly dismissed the idea, knowing that if he was in the hospital, he would be hearing a heart monitor probably, commotion in the hallways, hushed conversation up and down the hallways…But all Dean heard was that disconcerting, unsettling silence.

_There is no way anything was meant to be that quiet,_ Dean thought.

Dean finally took a chance and slit his eyes open, letting his pupils adjust to the light. When the light dimmed as his eyes adjusted, he was greeted by white.

Dean frowned as his eyes searched the room. White ceiling, white walls, white door, white floors…

"What the hell…" Dean muttered as he sat up, placing his feet on the floor next to the bed.

His feet met a padded floor. Looking closer, Dean saw that the walls and door were padded also. He looked down to see the plastic bracelet on his left wrist. It was a blue hospital band that read:

WINCHESTER, DEAN

01/24/1979

ALLERGIES: SHELLFISH

Dean frowned, pulling the white blanket and sheet back to see he was wearing blue scrub pants and a white t-shirt.

"Okay, seriously, what the hell?" Dean muttered.

He turned on his bed to see a window high in the wall next to the bed, bars over the glass.

"I am really getting a bad feeling about this," Dean muttered.

He climbed to his feet, heading past the foot of the bed towards the door. Dean placed a hand on the padding, seeing now that it was a very sturdy door. Dean's heart began to pound when he saw that there was no doorknob on his side.

"Oh, not good…" Dean said.

He began to throw himself at the door, shoving his shoulder into it. The padding cushioned most of his momentum, but if the ache in his shoulder was anything to go by, the door was made of solid steel. He soon gave up, chest heaving, and sat down on the bed.

_Okay, Dean,_ he thought. _Calm down. Get a handle on the situation._

Dean began to take stock of the situation.

What he knew:

1. He and Sam had hunted a vampire the night previously.

2. He and Sam had fallen asleep in their motel room.

3. He had woken up some place he didn't recognize.

4. He hurt…a lot.

5. There were pads on every surface, bars on the window, and no way out.

6. He was fairly certain now that he knew where he was, but it absolutely did **not** make him feel any better.

Dean could only think of two possibilities: some demon or other creature had gotten hold of him and brought him here, or someone had overheard he and Sam while they were discussing a hunt and locked him in here. Both scenarios still proposed a very pertinent question: where was Sam?

Dean had no way of knowing or finding out where Sam was, or if he was even safe. If they had gotten to Dean, they had most certainly gotten Sam. Or maybe not. Dean had been asleep. Sam, of course, had not. So, the question still stood: where was Sam?

Dean could still feel the annoying crawling skin sensation now that he sat still. He wondered what was causing it, because it was something he'd never experienced before. It caused his limbs to constantly move in jittery, nervous movements to dissipate the feeling, but it never worked. His head kept twitching to the sides and towards his shoulders, the biggest skin-crawling twinges being in his neck. It was a common movement Dean had seen from crazy people, making them appear even more insane.

It unnerved Dean to a level he was really not comfortable with. As a big brother, and especially as a hunter, Dean had a sixth sense, an intuition that warned him when his brother was in danger or a monster was near. And right now…that intuition was screaming at him.

Dean looked around his small, lonely confines, but there was absolutely no weapon whatsoever. The only objects in the room were the bed, the two blankets, the barred window, the locked door and the doorway past the head of the bed—

_Doorway?_ Dean thought.

He hadn't noticed it before, but who could blame him, what with waking up here and those damn twitches.

Dean moved from the bed, heading to the doorway. It led to a small room with a toilet and a sink.

"Well…better than prison," Dean muttered.

He walked back to his bed, sitting down and twitching his head to the side again.

He desperately wished for someone to come give him answers, but he also wanted to be left alone, knowing that the answers given him would only make things worse. Because, really, since when is waking up in an insane asylum a good thing?

A knock came at the door, and Dean jolted up from the bed, plastering his back to the wall next to the door.

"Dean," a female voice called. "It's Casey. I'm here with your breakfast."

Dean waited with held breath as a key turned in the lock. He held his whole body tense and ready, prepared to attack whatever walked in. The door unbolted and creaked open, swinging towards Dean. He stayed quiet behind the door, waiting for the newcomer to walk further in. The door came to a sudden stop perpendicular to the wall before a woman walked around the door to face Dean.

"Now, Dean, you know better than to hide," she said, her hand on her hip.

Dean stared in shock at her. It was like she was expecting him to be behind that door. But that wasn't what shocked Dean. He was staring at **Casey**: the demon he'd been trapped in a cellar with four years ago…and that Sam had then killed with the Colt. She wore blue Nursing scrubs.

"You?" asked Dean.

Casey smiled. "Yes, me. Come on, now. It's time for breakfast."

Casey reached a hand forward towards Dean's elbow, but he backed away from her touch.

"You're dead," said Dean, shaking his head. "Sam shot you. I watched you die."

"No, Dean," said Casey. "I'm perfectly fine. Be a good boy and come eat for me."

"What did you do to me?" demanded Dean, still tense. "Where's Sam?"

"Dean, it's breakfast time," said Casey in a calm, placating tone, completely ignoring his questions. "If you don't behave, you don't get breakfast."

Dean frowned, still glaring at her. "Just back the hell up, bitch."

Casey frowned and looked over her shoulder. A man walked up behind Casey, dressed in orderly whites.

Dean's eyes widened. "Gordon?"

The last time he'd seen Gordon Walker, the hunter-turned-vampire had taken a chunk out of his neck before Sam had decapitated him. The funny thing was, the two of them now had something in common: they'd been turned into vampires. The difference between Dean and Gordon was that Dean had been cured.

Gordon Smiled calmly at Dean. "Come on, buddy. You know Casey hates it when you're stubborn."

Dean had no idea what was going on, or why these two were acting like he was five years old. All Dean knew was these two were dead—killed by Sam's own hands—and now they were here. Dean had to figure out a way out of this.

"I don't want breakfast," Dean told them, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"Dean, you need to eat and take your medicine," Casey said.

Dean rolled his eyes, nodding his head. Of course, there was medicine. An insane asylum had to dish out medicine at some point.

Dean shook his head. "I don't want the medicine."

"Dean, the medicine makes you calm," said Casey.

"I am calm," Dean told her, his panicked, unsettled tone betraying his emotions.

"Dean, you have to take your medicine," Casey instructed.

"But I don't need it," said Dean. "I'm calm, I'm relaxed, I'm not crazy. I don't need it."

"Dean, we cannot leave until your medicine has been taken," said Casey.

"Great, problem solved," Dean told her. "You take it."

Casey stifled a laughing smile. "Dean, you take your medicine on your own, or we'll have to give it to you."

Dean knew what that meant: restraints, sedation and a shot—the complete absence of free will. They would give him no choice: it was their way, or…their way. And Casey's habit of saying his name first whenever she spoke to him was beginning to grate on his nerves.

Dean tried to make one last ditch effort.

"Casey," said Dean. "I know we've had kind of a rocky past, but—"

"Dean, we've always gotten long," Casey told him.

Dean huffed out a breath in a small chuckle. "I don't think you'd call trapped in a basement waiting for our partners to get there to kill each other getting along."

Casey's eyes fell to the floor in what looked like sorrow before masking her face and looking back up at him.

"Casey, look at me," said Dean, an untimely neck twitch betraying his words, "I am not crazy. You have to see that. Trust me, I am not crazy."

Casey looked into his eyes. "No, you're not."

Dean felt a small weight flee his chest, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere.

"You're just confused," Casey told him.

And the weight was back.

"Come with us, Dean," said Casey. "We'll help you."

She began inching closer, Gordon a step behind her. Dean knew now that he had to fight his way out, probably knew it from the moment she had knocked on the door. He saw a way out of this room, and he had to take it.

Dean let his jittery limbs take over, making it appear as though he were shaking. He let his eyes shift back and forth all over the place.

Dean nodded. "Yeah…yeah…"

Casey slowly stepped forward, and when she and Gordon were two feet in front of him, Dean made his move.

Dean shoved Casey hard into the wall, knocking her head against it. As Gordon rushed Dean, raising a club he'd drawn from his belt, Dean blocked the club against his right forearm. Dean kept his arm moving, circling it around the outside of Gordon's arm and under it, pulling the club under his own arm. Pinning the club between his upper arm and his ribs, he pulled down on Gordon's arm while twisting, breaking Gordon's grip on the club.

Dean swung his left hand towards Gordon's jaw, punching him twice. Gordon's body backed away a couple inches with each punch, letting Dean swing the club around in a perfect grip. Dean swung the club up across Gordon's nose, knocking him out.

Dean glanced at Casey, who was also knocked out. Dean bent over Gordon, rummaging in his pockets until he found a set of keys. Dean rushed to the doorway, crouched on bent legs, and peered into the hallway in both directions.

It was a long hallway, doors every dozen feet or so on either side, the same blinding white everywhere. No one was in the hallway, so Dean darted out of his room, rushing down the hall towards his right. Halfway down the hall, Dean saw another hall on his left, a door at the very end that looked different than the others.

Dean rushed to the door to find it locked. He looked through the window to see the room on the other side. It appeared to be a common room where the patients mingled: chairs, couches, tables, bookshelf, TV…

Dean rummaged through the key ring, finding one that looked like it fit. He tried it, and the door came open. There were no patients in the room at this time, and Dean began to move to the door that led towards the lobby and freedom. Through the windows beside that door, Dean saw a nurse's station. Halfway across the room, the nurse stood up in the station, and Dean hid behind a pillar near the right wall.

"Dammit," Dean muttered, his back against the pillar.

Dean looked to see the nurse turned away, so he darted for a different door in the wall near him. He fumbled with the keys before finding the right one. When he opened the door, he saw what appeared to be a crew lounge filled with people in white uniforms.

_Three fucking doors and I gotta pick the one that leads to the nurses and orderlies?_

Dean darted back out the door and into the common room as a nurse called out his name from the room. Dean turned to see two orderlies standing at the open lobby door.

_They must have cameras,_ Dean thought.

Dean charged at them, swinging his club and knocking them both out. But the lobby door had closed and locked as he was fighting them, and before he could reach for the keys, a voice called out.

"Dean!"

Dean froze at the voice behind him. It surely came from one of the employees from the lounge. Dean gripped the club tighter and spun to face them, crouched low in readiness and muscles tensed. He froze once again when he saw the several nurses and orderlies framing the room around him.

_What the…_ Dean wondered.

He recognized each and every one of them. There was a short, slim nurse with short blonde hair.

_Meg…_ Dean realized. _How did she get her original host back?_

As far as he knew, Meg Master's family had cremated her body when she died after the exorcism.

The next nurse was a little taller, pale, and had long brown hair.

_Constance Welch…_ Dean realized.

Her spirit had been destroyed when Sam had driven the Impala into her house.

The next man was a portly, middle-aged orderly with sandy hair and eyes so hazel you could swear they were yellow.

_Yellow-Eyed Demon…_

That host body—not to mention the demon itself—had been destroyed when Dean shot him with the Colt.

The next orderly was very tall—as tall as Sam—with short brown hair and a bear.

_Alistair…_

He and this host had been killed when Sam used his psychic mojo to kill him.

The next nurse was tall, blonde and had a round, beautiful face.

_Lillith…_

Her and the host had been killed by Sam in St. Mary's Convent.

The last orderly was middle-aged with sallow skin and black hair.

_Jack Montgomery…_

Sam had roasted-n-toasted him after he'd successfully turned himself into a rugaru.

And the last nurse was someone Dean had hoped never to see again. She was as tall as Dean, blonde, slender, and had a sadistic smirk that was just waiting to come out.

_Ruby…_ Dean thought with a hidden growl.

He wished he had her knife so he could kill her again.

Dean did not understand; every single one of these people were dead, with the exception of Meg. But that host should not be here; she was nothing but ashes.

_Something weird's going on here…_

"Dean, calm down," Ruby told him. "Just put the club down and walk away."

"So you guys can kill me?" said Dean. He chuckled. "Not a chance."

"Dean, no one is going to hurt you," said Azazel.

_What is with them using my name at the beginning of every sentence? _Dean wondered.

"Bullshit," Dean muttered.

They were all inching closer, cornering him at that end of the room, and that intuition was screaming inside Dean's head again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much evil in one room…well, at least not this diverse.

"Dean, come with us," said Alistair with that stupid lisp. "No one has to get hurt."

Apparently, using his name was supposed to calm him. All it was doing was pissing him off.

"Except me, right?" said Dean, standing his ground as the orderlies got closer.

"Everything's going to be alright, Dean," said Lillith.

They kept coming, so Dean took his chances. He swung the club at the closest orderly—Jack—and swung it at Azazel. He felt someone grab his arms from behind, so he brought his foot down on theirs. The person released him, but Jack grabbed his club arm, breaking his grip on the club.

Dean punched him, but Alistair grabbed his arm, and Jack grabbed his other arm. They brought him to his knees, but Dean head-butted Alistair. Alistair reeled back, but Azazel jumped him, pushing on his back until Dean was face-down on the floor. Dean struggled in their grasp as he looked up to see Gordon joining them. Jack and Alistair each had an arm, Azazel dug his knees into Dean's back, and Gordon held his legs down.

The four orderlies struggled to keep him down, and Dean would have smirked inwardly that it took four big guys to take him down…if he wasn't so focused on getting away.

"Let me go!" Dean yelled at them. "You evil sons of bitches! Get off me!"

"Dean, calm down!" Azazel yelled in his ear.

"I'll kill you all!" Dean yelled as he tried to throw Yellow-Eyes off him, moving his shoulders back and forth, but Jack and Alistair held his arms tight. He also tried kicking his legs, but Gordon had a good hold on them. "I will rip every one of your hearts out!"

"Meg," said Alistair, "you got it?"

"Yeah," said Meg.

Dean tilted his head to see Meg approaching him with a needle and syringe.

"No!" Dean yelled, renewing his struggles to get free. "Get away from me!"

"Hold him," said Meg, approaching the group.

Dean looked up at the needle as Meg knelt by his head. Real fear began to creep into Dean's heart. If they drugged him, he knew he would never get out of here.

"No!" Dean yelled, straining his head away from Meg and trying to get away from her. "No, don't! Get away from me!"

"It'll be alright, Dean," Meg coaxed. "This will make everything better."

_Yeah, better for you,_ Dean thought.

"No!" Dean yelled as Azazel placed a hand on Dean's head to hold him still. "Stop, no! Get away!"

Dean felt the prick of the needle in the side of his neck.

"No!"

The cool rush of drugs, the dizzying spin of the relaxant, and the blackout of sedation.

**So, what do you guys think? Review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Dean felt that familiar pounding in his head as he came to. He lay still on the bed, eyes closed, and waited tensely.

_Oh, please, let it have been a nightmare,_ he wished.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and let them adjust to the bright light, seeing that striking white again.

"Aw, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

He went to raise his hand to his head, but it wouldn't move, and he felt a pad wrapped around each wrist. Dean raised his head and looked down at his body.

"Son of a bitch…" Dean muttered again.

He was lying in the bed in his room, restraints on his wrists, ankles and across his chest, tying him to the bed.

Dean let his head fall back onto the pillow. "Terrific."

Dean had nothing to do but lay there and think. He could not figure out how all these things were still alive. His dad told him that the Colt kills things, which means Yellow-Eyes and Casey shouldn't be here. Ruby's knife killed anything—guaranteed—so why was she here? Sam's powers had been proven to kill demons—it worked on Lillith—but that didn't explain how she and Alistair were here. Jack had been torched to a crisp, and Gordon had been decapitated.

It was possible that Constance hadn't been destroyed—there was no guarantee that that was what had happened that night—but he and Sam had been pretty sure. The killings stopped, didn't they?

And, of course, Meg was still alive. She just had a different host. But, how had she gotten that Meg girl back to possess in the first place?

As far as Dean knew, it was impossible that they were all here. Maybe he was having another djinn nightmare like a couple months ago. But this wasn't really one of his fears—not like Yellow-Eyes coming for Lisa and Ben. It was just random.

Maybe they had all escaped from purgatory. After all, humans went to heaven or hell when they died, and Dean and Sam had both come back from heaven **and** hell. So, why not supernatural beings returning from purgatory? But how the hell did they get out? And what the hell were they trying to accomplish with the whole asylum thing?

A knock at the door interrupted Dean's thoughts. The door unlocked and opened, revealing Lillith in the doorway.

"How are you feeling this morning, Dean?" asked Lillith.

"Screw you, bitch," Dean growled through clenched teeth, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. Except, this time, there were no hellhounds and the bonds keeping Dean from charging at Lillith were very corporeal.

"Your doctor is here to see you, Dean," said Lillith.

She stepped into the room and looked toward the doorway as a man in black pants, black shoes, white shirt, black tie and white doctor coat walked into the room. Dean's eyes widened as he stared at him.

"Cas?" Dean said.

Castiel stood in the doorway, staring at Dean.

"Hello, Dean, how are we today?" Castiel asked in a warm tone. And was that actual compassion—emotion—in Cas' eyes?

"Cas, what's going on?" asked Dean.

Castiel walked further into the room. "Dean, it's me, Dr. Novak, remember?"

Dean frowned, wondering what game Cas was playing, when he realized the name Cas had given: Novak.

_Of course, his vessel, Jimmy Novak,_ Dean thought. _He couldn't just pop in here for some reason. He had to trick his way in._

Dean nodded, and Castiel turned to Lillith.

"Thank you, Katherine," said Castiel with a smile. "That will be all."

Dean frowned. _Katherine? Oh, right, their cover._

Lillith smiled and left, closing the door.

Dean relaxed. "Thank God, Cas. Nice work with the subterfuge. Very convincing. Get me out of here."

Castiel sat on the edge of the foot of Dean's bed. "Dean, my name is Dr. Jimmy Novak."

"Cas, you can drop the act," Dean told him. "No one's watching anymore."

"This is not an act," said Castiel. "I am not Castiel."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"I have been your primary doctor for the past six years," said Castiel. "You're a patient at the Lawrence Psychiatric Hospital."

Dean felt the pit in his stomach drop into a dark, cold abyss. "No, no, no, no…they got to you. They got to you, didn't they? Cas, snap out of it! Your name is Castiel. You're an angel. Jimmy Novak is the name of—"

"The vessel," said Castiel with a nod.

Dean brightened a little. "Yes! It's coming back, isn't it? You remember."

Castiel sighed. "Dean, you are the most stubborn patient in this facility, and ultimately, the most dangerous. The…unfortunate beauty of your psychosis is that anything we say or do fits directly into your delusions. If we tell you you're insane, you assume we are simply possessed or shapeshifters. You believe you are held captive by supernatural beings—"

"Exactly!" said Dean. "Now, you have got to snap out of it and get me the hell out of here!"

Castiel sighed again. "Dean, there are no such thing as angels. At least, not the literal ones you speak of. I am a human being. There are no such thing as monsters."

"Then what do you call all them?" asked Dean, with a gesture of his head towards the door. "Meg and Yellow-Eyes and Ruby and—"

"They are not the demons you imagine them to be," said Castiel.

Dean rolled his eyes. _Okay, I think Cas has lost it._

"The man you call Yellow-Eyes is named Frederic Lane," said Castiel. "He started working here five years ago."

_About the time of the semi accident,_ Dean thought.

"Meg Masters started work here six years ago," said Castiel.

_When she ran into Sam on the side of the road…_

"Alistair's real name is Christopher Heyerdahl," said Castiel. "He began work three years ago."

_When I was in hell…_

"Ruby Cassidy started here four years ago."

_When she began talking to Sam…_

"Lillith's real name is Katherine Boecher. She began working here two years ago."

_When she came to make a deal with Sam…_

"You've built a fantasy world based on the people around you," said Castiel. "Your mother died in a house fire, and you couldn't live with yourself knowing you couldn't do anything about it. You invented a supernatural world where you could exact revenge on your mother's killer and any evil creature who hurt people. You turned yourself from a tragic victim to the hero of your own story."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on—"

"Dean, you slipped permanently into your delusions when you were twenty-six, and your father had you committed here," said Castiel. "You were dangerous. You hurt people."

Dean looked at him, eyes narrowed. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew one thing: this was not Castiel.

"Look, whatever you're trying to do, it's not gonna work," said Dean. "I know my own life. You can't trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you," said Castiel—no, Dr. Novak. "It's facts. The papers covered it for weeks. You murdered three young girls, claiming they were evil witches, responsible for several freak accidents in town. You were found next to their bodies, a gun on the ground, dowsing them with gasoline and salt."

Dean turned wide eyes onto him.

_Did I really do that? _Dean wondered.

Dean mentally shook himself, snapping him out of that thought.

_Of course it didn't happen! Don't let them get to you!_

Whatever was going on, they were trying to get him to think he was insane. And no way was Dean gonna fall for that. They would have to try **a lot** harder.

"That never happened," said Dean, jaw tight.

"It was August 2005," said Dr. Novak. "Rebecca Smith, Catherine Dents, and Tabby Reskill."

Dean remembered that hunt. It was shortly before his father had disappeared, and John had sent Dean to take care of a coven of witches. They'd been killing the locals for their black magic sacrifices. Dean had shot them, and then salted and burned them just in case.

Dean had to hand it to whoever was behind this whole act: they were good.

"They **were** witches," said Dean. "I watched them fling me across the street when I was questioning them."

"You harassed them," said Dr. Novak. "You posed as an FBI agent and questioned them twice before showing up at their apartment in the middle of the night. They called the poclie—terrified—saying you were breaking into the apartment and screaming at them. Then, suddenly, you threw yourself out their window and into the street. Probably to keep up your delusion."

_My God, he's still at it._

"You treated many of your 'cases' this way," said Dr. Novak. "You posed as a government official to question civilians about deaths you read about in the newspaper. You would pretend to kill the creature and move onto the next hunt. Your father did not want to acknowledge your illness, because he had already lost a wife. He did not want to see his son dragged away to an institution. But when your condition progressed further and you killed those girls, your father had no choice."

Dean had to admit that the story was believable. His family's life of hunting sounded like a crazy person's worst nightmare. But Dean **knew** his life had bee real.

"You're never gonna get away with this," growled Dean. "My brother will find me."

"Even though he has no soul," Dr. Novak told him. "This bond with Sam is probably the healthiest part of your condition. It gives you a family that will stick with you even though he has no emotion for you whatsoever."

Dr. Novak climbed to his feet, looking down at Dean. "Your family will not be allowed to visit until you calm down. We will not remove the restraints until that is so. With your father's military training, you are too dangerous. You hurt three orderlies and a nurse, and that's not counting the previous escape attempts."

Dr. Novak glanced at his watch. "I must tend to my other patients. I hope you feel better."

As Dr. Novak walked toward the door and knocked on it, Dean began struggling with the restrains again.

"Let me out of here!" Dean yelled, the cords in his neck straining.

The door opened, and Dr. Novak walked into the doorway.

"Let me out of here, or I swear you will regret it!" Dean threatened, teeth clenched.

Dr. Novak looked back at Dean, eyes sad. "No, Dean, you will."

He closed the door on Dean's yells and struggles.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Dean hated this.

After Dr. Novak left, they had drugged him every eight hours. He would try to think of ways to get out, but his drugged mind would wander, and most of the time, stop thinking altogether, and he would stare at the ceiling in a drug-induced stupor.

They came every three hours or so—not counting meals—to see if he needed a bathroom run. And wasn't that annoying, waiting for someone to let him out of his restraints so he could take a piss. As if that wasn't bad enough, a nurse had to help him because of the drugs. And the bathroom wasn't equipped with a door, because, apparently, a patient would work the door off its hinges somehow and use it as a weapon. So, Dean had two orderlies in the other room, watching, because a mental patient left to his own devices could create all kinds of trouble. It was all perfectly normal in a mental hospital, but to Dean, it was just embarrassing.

Whenever he'd begged for the restraints to be removed, they would tell him that the restraints would be removed when he calmed down and willingly took his medicine. Dean, of course, had refused, and spent his days in drugged sedation.

After a week, Dean had had enough. He figured he could either stay in restraints and be force-fed drugs, or he could feed himself the meds and be allowed freedom. Either way, he was going to be drugged; it was a matter of being allowed to move around. At least without the restraints, he could do his best to fight his muddled mind and case the joint for a way out. He figured he could play along to get himself out.

Dean had begged Ruby when she came in with lunch to give him the pills—that he wanted to be good and "get better." Ruby—with two orderlies present, of course—had taken off the restraints on his hands and torso, letting him sit up. The restraints on his feet had stayed for precaution. Ruby had held a cup of three pills—all a different color—out to him, and Dean had reluctantly swallowed them.

Satisfied, Ruby had taken away the restraints, and Dean was told he would remain in his room the rest of the day to continue cooling off. Dean had begged for something to occupy his time—he didn't think he could stand another afternoon of staring at this room—and Ruby had brought him a book: "Pride and Prejudice." It wasn't exactly exciting, but he guessed adventurous novels could excite the patients. It was better than just sitting there.

Sometime that afternoon, Dr. Novak knocked on Dean's door and came in to talk to him. He sat on the bed next to Dean.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" asked Dr. Novak.

_Like zapping your brain-washed ass to Oz,_ Dean thought. If only he had a knife to cut his hand with…

"Better," said Dean, pretending he was falling for it. "I, uh…I think it all finally hit me…that those girls were innocent humans…I mean, if I've been here the past six years, then nothing the past six years has happened. I…I need help."

Dr. Novak nodded, smiling. "You're lying, but…I'll take what I can get. As long as you continue to take your medication and behave appropriately, I see no reason to keep you locked in your room anymore. You will be allowed to leave your room for group sessions, meals and time in the common room starting tomorrow. Your group session will be tomorrow morning."

Dr. Novak stood up. "You know, Dean, I'm only trying to help, but I can't until you help yourself. Good night."

He left the room, leaving Dean with his boring book.

_Group session,_ thought Dean. _Great._

But at least they were letting him out. If his luck kept up, he might be out of here in two weeks, tops.

And then there was the matter of "family." That's what Dr. Novak had said: "Your family will not be allowed to visit until you calm down." Did that mean Sam knew he was in here? But if that was so, why hadn't he tried to get him out yet?

The next morning, Meg walked into his room with a tray of breakfast food. Gordon walked in with her and closed the door.

"What happened to letting me out of my room?" asked Dean as he sat up in bed.

"Dr. Novak says you are to eat breakfast in your room and then take a shower before group session," Meg answered. "From that point on, you will join the rest of the patients in the cafeteria for meals."

Dean nodded. "Fair enough."

Meg held out a cup with his three pills in it. "These first."

Dean smiled sarcastically. "Oh, wonderful. I've been waiting for these."

Meg laughed a little. Dean grabbed the cup and dry-swallowed the meds. He grimaced as he quickly grabbed the cup of orange juice, taking a big gulp.

"Ugh," Dean muttered, setting the orange juice down and looking up at Meg. "You guys can't even **try** to mask the taste?"

Meg laughed again. Dean dug into his breakfast of eggs, toast, hash browns and bacon with his plastic fork and knife—of course, you can't give real silverware to a criminally insane patient. Dean could feel the tremors and skin crawlies beginning from the medications. After his breakfast was finished, Meg opened the door, and Dean and Gordon walked out. They were joined by Jack. Meg led them down the hall as Jack and Gordon followed Dean.

It was the first time Dean had been out of his room since that hectic, disastrous first day. Dean looked at each door as he passed, wondering what tortures and nightmares they had hidden in each room.

They led him past the hallway on his left that led to the common room and towards a door at the end of the hall. Meg opened this door, and Dean found himself in a moderate-sized room—about the size of every motel room he and Sam had ever stayed in—that had a shower nozzle on one wall with a bench along the opposite wall.

"Alright, guys," said Dean, twitching his head as a twinge flared up. "Thanks for the escort."

Gordon took a seat on the bench as Jack took a place by the door. Meg grabbed a bar of soap and bottle of shampoo from the bench and approached Dean.

"You're serious?" said Dean.

"Come on, Dean," said Meg. "You don't want to get those clothes wet."

Dean looked at her like she'd just announced she was human. "With you freaks watching? I don't think so."

"Dean—" Meg began.

"It's a shower," Dean told them. "With one door. Where am I gonna go?"

"Dean, it's policy," said Meg. "You know that. We can't leave you alone in here."

"Then they leave," said Dean, pointing at the two orderlies.

"Dean, they're here for your safety—" Meg began.

"You mean yours?" growled Dean.

"Dean—" Meg started.

"I don't need a freaking babysitter!" said Dean. "Let alone three! This ain't no freaking peep show!"

Meg just looked him in the eye. "Dean, it's either this or the restraints. Your choice."

Dean sighed, shrugging his shoulders to dissipate the crawlies. Neither choice appealed to Dean, but he had to choose his battles. This one, he had to lose.

"Fine," said Dean, walking over to the bench and pulling the filthy white shirt off. As he untied the blue pants, he looked up at Jack and Gordon, glaring at them. "I better not catch either of you jacking off."

Jack and Gordon laughed as Meg blushed.

_I didn't know demons __**could**__ blush,_ Dean thought.

Reluctantly, Dean pulled the pants off and deposited them on the bench with the shirt. Dean had never felt this exposed before. Even the last time he'd been in an asylum to hunt a wraith, the whole pulling his pants down and yelling "pudding!" had been his choice—a way to get them out of their situation. Now…now, it was just plain embarrassing.

Face flushed in humiliation, Dean headed over to the nozzle, turning it on and getting the warm water to start flowing. Meg walked over, running her hands in the water and lathering them up on the bar of soap.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you kidding me?" said Dean.

Meg stopped and looked up at him. "Dean—"

"I already got you guys watching me," argued Dean. "I don't need help washing myself."

Meg shrugged. "It's your choice." Meg placed the shampoo on the small shelf below the nozzle. "But I will be right over there if you need help."

"And be sure you stay over there," Dean told her.

Meg handed him the bar of soap and headed over to the bench to wait.

_And watch…_ Dean thought.

He turned back to the wall in front of him, trying to imagine he was in a motel bathroom. It really helped that the longer the shower took, the more the steam obscured his naked form. He picked up the bar of soap and began washing his skin. Once his hair was washed, he turned the water off, and Meg handed him a towel. Dean quickly held it in front of him while he dried off. Meg handed him new pants and shirt, and Dean quickly changed.

"That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" asked Meg.

Dean huffed in annoyance. "Why don't you strip down and see for yourself."

Meg smiled, reaching for the door. "Maybe next time."

Meg led the three of them out the door down the hall to the door that led into the common room. They led him through the empty common room.

"Where is everyone?" Dean asked.

"Group meetings," Meg answered.

Dean was led to the left of the common room towards one of the doors in the wall. Meg opened the door and led Dean into a room a quarter of the size of the common room—about the size of the shower room. There was a small circle of chairs in the room, every seat occupied save for one empty chair. The others in the room looked up at him.

"Dean," said Dr. Novak. Dean's attention was drawn towards him. He was sitting among the circle of chairs. "Please join us."

Jack closed the door as he and Gordon took a place in the back of the room. Meg had left after depositing Dean in the room. Dean walked along the circle of chairs, heading for the empty one. As he passed one chair, he looked down to see the guy in it had a mullet of brown hair.

Dean froze, staring at the guy. There was no mistaking that mullet.

"Ash?" Dean asked.

The guy looked up at him, and Dean's eyes widened. Ash had torn the sleeves off his shirt, leaving him in his trademark style.

"They got you, too?" Dean asked.

"Dean," said Dr. Novak. Dean looked up at him. "Sit down."

With one last look at Ash, Dean continued to his seat, looking around at the group. He knew every one of them, just like with the nurses and orderlies. He saw Jo and Ellen and Travis and Steve and Reggie and Rufus and Tim and Martin. He didn't understand half these people were dead.

Ash had died in the roadhouse fire, Ellen and Jo had died in that hellhound explosion, Travis had been eaten by Jack, and Steve had been killed by a demon in the apocalypse. Tim and Reggie were AWOL, Rufus was out hunting, and Martin…well, Martin was the only one who belonged there. Out of all of them, Martin was the only hunter he knew of that was in a mental hospital.

So, now hunters were back from the dead, too? This made no sense on so many levels. Then again, it was an insane asylum. Since when was sense a common visitor **here**?

Dean took his seat between Dr. Novak and Jo.

_How did the demons get all of us? _Dean wondered. _Is this like some insane collection of hunters?_

"We're glad you could join us, Dean," Dr. Novak stated. "Aren't we?"

There were murmured yes's all around. Dean tried to catch several people's eyes, but no one would look at him—they just stared at the floor.

"Now," said Dr. Novak, "what do we want to talk about today?"

Travis raised his hand.

"Yes, Travis?" called Dr. Novak.

"I would like to talk about the food," said Travis. "It's served lukewarm—full of germs. You need to turn up the heat. Heat is the only thing that kills germs. Heat is the only—"

"Thank you, Travis," said Dr. Novak. "I will check on that."

Travis nodded, satisfied.

"Anyone else?" asked Dr. Novak.

Tim raised his hand.

"Yes, Tim?" asked Dr. Novak.

"Can we do something about the antennas?" asked Tim.

The group groaned.

"Now, Tim—" began Dr. Novak.

"But they can steal our brains!" said Tim. "If we don't protect the building, the aliens will take our minds!"

"Again with the aliens!" said Rufus. He glared at Tim, pointing an angry finger at him. "You know, you are really starting to piss me off."

"Rufus, calm down," Dr. Novak soothed him. "It's going to be alright."

"Can I please go back to my room?" asked Ellen. She sat cross-legged, her chin held high. "I don't see what any of this foolish business has to do with me." She looked at her daughter Jo. "What are your thoughts, dear?"

Jo frowned at her, slumped down in her chair. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. I ain't really listenin' to any of this. I'm just chillin'."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. _I can't believe they managed to break them all._

Dean put his head in his hands. He couldn't believe that the nine, skilled hunters were reduced to these crazed, confused mental patients.

"Everyone calm down," said Dr. Novak. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean looked up to see the ten other people looking at him. There was not one hint of recognition in their eyes. At least, not the kind Dean expected. He saw recognition that they knew him, but he could not find one bit of hunter in the others.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Dean.

"Anything you'd like to share with the group today?" asked Dr. Novak.

Dean shook his head. "No, not really."

"Alright, anyone else have any concerns?" asked Dr. Novak.

**************************************SN*********************************************

Group session had been enlightening. Dean had discovered that Ash had a mental illness that caused him to tell everyone that they stink, that the room stinks, that everyone else stinks…Ellen had some royalty complex. Jo had multiple personalities. Reggie kept imagining bunnies were after him, and he hallucinated them frequently. Martin was extremely OCD, Rufus had anger issues, Tim thought aliens were after him, Travis had a germ phobia, and Steve was schizophrenic. Dean found out that he himself was a paranoid schizophrenic with a narcissistic personality disorder and religious psychosis…just like that doctor he'd hallucinated in that asylum told him.

It was the craziest bunch of hunters Dean had ever seen. The demons and monsters had turned them, playing with their minds. Dean knew he had to keep himself sane to save them all.

Dean walked out of the session room and into the common room. It was full of patients. Dean walked all of two feet before he froze, eyes widening. He recognized these people, too.

He saw familiar faces all over the room: Susan Carter from those twins in the walls, Madison from the werewolf case, Diana Ballard from the death omen case, Frank O'Brien from the ghost sickness, Sam's friend Rebecca from the shapeshifter, Andrea Bar, Candace Armstrong, Sarge…

Everywhere he looked was someone he and Sam had saved or lost on a case.

"Dean?" asked Meg from one side of him.

"It's all of them…" Dean muttered. "They're all here…"

"Dean," Meg said more forcefully.

"No," said Dean. "I gotta get out of here…"

Dean began stumbling away from Meg and towards the lobby door.

"Dean!" Meg called.

She walked over to him as he headed for the door. Meg grabbed his arm gently, but Dean shoved her away from him. All Dean knew was that he had to get out of there. His world was crumbling around him, and he couldn't take it anymore.

As he rushed toward the door, he was suddenly tackled, and a needle was pushed into his neck.

*********************************************************SN************************************************************************************

Dean opened his eyes to see lights moving above him. He was strapped to a gurney, being moved through the halls. Dean looked up to see Alistair and Azazel wheeling the gurney and Dr. Novak walking beside him.

"What's going on?" asked Dean, the terror beginning to climb when he felt the restraints. "Where are you taking me?"

"Your monthly treatment," said Dr. Novak. "Everything's okay, Dean. You're going to be fine."

"What treatment?" asked Dean, beginning to hyperventilate. "What's going on?"

"Dean, it's your normal treatment," Dr. Novak reassured him. "You're going to be fine."

Dean desperately turned his head to see what was going on. They wheeled him through a set of swinging doors into a room with surgical tables.

"Okay, look, I'm really feeling better, so I don't need any treatment, okay?" said Dean, staring in fear at the instruments in the room.

"Dean, you make it through every treatment perfectly fine," said Dr. Novak as they stopped the gurney. "Just try to relax, and it'll be over before you know it."

Dean watched Dr. Novak preparing two needles as Azazel and Alistair attached nodes on the ends of wires to Dean's temples.

Dean suddenly understood what this room was used for: electro-shock.

"No, no, no, please," Dean begged his doctor. "Don't do this. Please."

"Dean, relax," said Dr. Novak. "We give you a sedative and an anesthetic beforehand so you are not conscious and will not feel anything."

Dean was not reassured. Even if he wasn't awake and not feeling it, he would prefer not to go through it.

Dr. Novak raised the needle. "See you when you wake up."

Dr. Novak plunged the needle into the inside of Dean's arm, and Dean felt the drugs rush towards his brain. As the sedative took effect, the last thing Dean heard sent his heart trip-hammering:

"Charge it."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Dean's headache this morning was worse than any the meds ever gave him. That electro-shock last night did not agree with him. Despite the anesthetic, he still hurt. True, he hadn't felt anything at the time, but his brain was sending out pain signals left over from the treatment. His joints prickled like needles were in them, his muscles tingled, his skin buzzed, and his brain ached. And each movement sent a new wave of energy-draining electric agony running through his nerves.

Dean opted for just lying still on his bed, content to lay there until the world ended—which wouldn't be long, seeing as how all these evil sons of bitches had risen and kidnapped every hunter Dean knew, living **and** dead.

It wasn't long before his door opened and Casey entered with a breakfast tray. She set it on the floor upon seeing Dean's weary eyes tracking her movement. She leaned over Dean's body, grasping his shoulders.

"Let's get you up," said Casey. "Don't worry about moving; I'll do it for you."

She slipped an arm underneath Dean's shoulder blades, pulling him up into a sitting position. His joints protested, and Dean moaned at the needles he felt deep in them.

"Almost there," Casey soothed. "Sorry."

Casey then turned him so his back was against the wall and his legs hung off the side. Casey let him lean back against the padded wall. Dean relaxed as the agony subsided. He didn't know how he would make it through the day.

"Don't worry," said Casey, sitting next to him with the breakfast tray. "The side effects will fade in a couple hours."

_Thank God,_ Dean thought.

Did he even say that out loud? He'd meant to, but he couldn't find the strength to voice anything.

"Alright," said Casey, holding up the med cup. "Think you can swallow?"

Dean summoned up enough strength to nod a little. Casey held the cup to his lips and tilted it, emptying the three pills into his mouth. She set the cup down and picked up a glass of water with a straw in it. Placing the straw in between his lips, she held it still so Dean could drink. When he got a mouthful, he nodded at her, and she pulled the straw away from his mouth. Dean swallowed the water and pills as Casey set the water down.

Normally, Dean would protest to being treated like this—someone else doing everything for him because he was unable. Dean hated not being able to take care of himself and being vulnerable like this. But right now, he hurt too much to care—even if the person taking care of him was a supposed demon. And besides, he'd woken up and had been trapped in an insane asylum for over a week now. He was entitled to feel a little helpless.

Casey turned back towards Dean. "Ready?"

Dean nodded, and Casey raised a spoonful of the ham and cheese omelet towards Dean's mouth. Dean took the mouthful of omelet and nodded once he swallowed, and Casey gave him another bite. It proceeded that way until the breakfast was finished. Dean's headache had subsided to the dull throb he usually felt when he took the meds. The muscle tingles and joint prickles had faded only slightly to be joined by the crawling skin and twitches.

Casey set the tray on the floor to be cleaned up later. "Alright, Dean, let's get you in the shower."

Dean moaned, both at the thought that he had to suffer through that again and that he **really** did not want to move.

"If I could let you lie here all morning, I really would," said Casey. "But you have a visitor coming today, and you don't want him to see you looking like this, do you?"

Dean's eyes widened. _I'm getting a visitor? Sammy? He's coming? This must be his way of getting me out! I knew he'd figure something out!_

Thank goodness Dean was too tired to talk, or he might have just said all that out loud out of relief.

Dean nodded, and Casey leaned him up into a sitting position.

"Ready?" asked Casey.

Dean nodded and put weight on his legs as Casey pulled him to his feet. Dean felt the aches and prickles all up and down his legs.

Dean groaned. "Son of a bitch…"

"You gonna be okay?" asked Casey.

Dean nodded. He'd rather hurt now than be dirty and unkempt when Sam arrived.

"Lean on me whenever you need to," said Casey.

Casey helped Dean out of his room, Azazel accompanying them. Each step was agony that spread from Dean's feet, through his ankles, up his legs and directly to his brain. His muscles protested the movement he was forcing them to do, wanting to stiffen up as they relaxed and healed. It was slow moving down the hall as they headed for the shower room. It seemed like hours later that Dean was finally at the door, and Casey opened it.

"Do you want to sit?" asked Casey.

Dean quickly shook his head. He knew that if he sat down, he would never get back up. If he stayed standing and didn't move, he would be fine.

Casey moved him over under the shower nozzle as Azazel closed the door. Casey grabbed the hem of Dean's shirt, pulling it up towards his head. She lifted one arm, pulling the sleeve off his arm and the shirt off his head. She slid the shirt off the other arm and threw it in the corner. She moved her hands to the drawstring of his pants.

Dean really was not comfortable with her undressing him and then bathing him, but he was in too much pain to move, and the meds were not helping. They were adding their share of relaxant to his system as usual, making him carefree and exhausted. The more she could help, the better.

Casey pulled the scrubs down to his ankles, lifting his legs one by one and tossing the pants over towards the shirt. She turned the nozzle on, letting Dean soak in the warm water. Dean moaned, closing his eyes. The warm water was already soothing his tight muscles. He stayed that way for a while before he felt small, soft, soapy hands rubbing his shoulders. Casey massaged the soap into his skin, relaxing the muscles underneath.

"If you could keep that up, that'd be awesome," Dean muttered in a hoarse voice.

Casey laughed as she moved on to his arms. She then moved on to his back, torso, legs, face, and…other parts. Dean tried real hard not to get hard when she did that. He knew she was a demon, but there was something about her—about all of them—that suggested they weren't who he thought they were. He felt an odd sense of respect for her that he couldn't explain. Luckily, the drugs and the fact that Azazel was watching stopped the erection before it could go anywhere.

Casey set the soap down and moved onto the shampoo. Dean closed his eyes, relishing the moment as Casey massaged his scalp. Pushing him into the water, she rinsed him off and turned the water off.

Casey smiled. "Perfect."

"You're not so bad yourself," Dean smirked. He was quite proud of the fact that he delivered that line in the condition he was in.

_Oh, my God. I'm hitting on a demon._

Casey smiled. "Well, thank you. You feeling better?"

Dean took stock of his body. The massaged muscles were now relaxed and only minorly ached. "Yeah, great. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Casey. "It's my job."

Casey helped Dean over to the bench, and Dean found he could move much easier now. Casey handed him a towel, and Dean dried off. She gave him his new clothes, and he slowly put them on. Casey then escorted him back to his room. They walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the sink.

"Let's see what we can do about that handsome face," said Casey, rubbing a hand through his week-old stubble.

************************************************************SN*******************************************************

Once Casey had shaved Dean, she brought him into the common room. Dean was nervous about going back in there, remembering all those familiar faces that should not have been there. Dean looked around at the patients currently in the room with him. There were only a few people he hadn't seen yesterday morning: the producer from that case in Hollywood, the pastor from the case about the Whore of Babylon, and—Dean was both annoyed **and** amused to find them in here—the two renowned Ghostfacers.

Dean sat down on the couch next to Hope Lynn Casey—from the wishing well—watching the people around him. He looked over at Hope. She stared straight ahead, eyes glazed over.

Dean smiled. "Hi. Hope, right?" Hope did not respond. "I'm Dean." Hope was still silent and unmoving. "You don't talk much, do you?"

Hope slowly turned her head, looking Dean right in the eye and speaking in a whisper. "They're coming…"

She turned her head back to its original position. Dean stared at her for a moment.

"Good talk," he told her. He got to his feet and moved away from the couch, heading for the television viewing area.

Dean sat down in a chair next to Steve. Steve was staring at the TV, watching Harry Potter.

"Hey, Steve," said Dean, looking at the TV.

"Hey, Dean," Steve mumbled back.

"Harry Potter, huh?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," Steve chuckled. "Better than those romance or family movies they usually show."

Dean chuckled also. "Got that right." He looked at the screen for a moment, frowning. "This the one where there's a giant snake and a diary?"

"Chamber of Secrets?" said Steve. "Yep. That's the one."

"Huh," said Dean, turning to watch the movie. It was sad when you were so bored you resorted to watching Harry Potter. (A/N: Dean's attitude, not mine. I love Harry Potter.)

Just as Harry Potter was dodging a rogue Bludger, Harry Spengler jumped in front of them, pointing a pencil at Dean.

"Stupefy!" Harry cried in a British accent. He waited for a moment, frowning as Dean just stared at him. Harry looked down at the pencil. "Bloody hell! They took my powers!"

"You okay, Harry?" asked Dean.

Harry looked up at him, glaring. "I'm fine, Draco! Leave me alone!"

Harry stalked off towards the corner of the room.

"Ignore him," said Steve. "He watches something on the TV and thinks he's that character."

"Wow," said Dean. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

Steve laughed.

"So, listen, no offense, but you seem normal compared to these guys," said Dean.

"Well, schizophrenia is subtle most of the time," said Steve.

"That's right," said Dean, remembering Steve's condition.

"You see, we don't hallucinate, not like the rest of them," said Steve. "At least I don't. I hear you've got a pretty hard life cut out for yourself."

"Well…it's the business, you know," said Dean. "It's my job. I was born to do it, and it's all I've known. You know, with Sam there, it doesn't seem so bad. I got a partner and a friend. I deal with it."

Steve nodded. "This Sam…I've heard you talk about him before."

Dean almost laughed out loud. _Yeah, and you've met him._

"Is he your boyfriend?" asked Steve.

Dean raised his hands in frustration, dropping them back onto the arms of the chair. "Why does **everyone** think we're gay?"

"Well, you said partner," Steve pointed out.

"**Hunting** partner," Dean clarified. "Partner in the business. We're brothers."

"Oh," Steve nodded. "Got it. Sorry."

"Don't worry," said Dean, contempt in his voice. "Everyone else does it."

"And he hunts with you?" asked Steve. "Ghosts, right?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "In fact, so do you."

Steve shook his head. "No, trust me, I've never hunted anything in my life. I work over at the Holly Five and Dime."

_Where you were killed,_ Dean thought. _These demons are good._

"Well, whatever," mumbled Dean, his brain too tired to argue.

"No, not right now," said Steve suddenly.

Dean looked at him. "What?"

"What?" asked Steve, looking at him.

"You just said—"

Steve turned and looked at the empty air on his other side. "I told you not right now."

Dean dropped his head, shaking it. _And I had high hopes for him._

"Well, we'll discuss it later," said Steve. "I'm having a conversation right now." He turned back to Dean. "Sorry about that. My brother never leaves me alone."

"No problem," said Dean. "I'll just leave you two alone."

Dean got up, listening to Steve as he walked away.

"Now look what you did," Steve mumbled to his "brother."

Dean walked up to Constance, who sat with another patient—Jo.

"Hey, Constance, can I go back to my room now?" asked Dean.

"Sure," said Constance. She looked at Jo. "I'll be right back, Vanessa."

Jo smiled sweetly at her, speaking in a Southern belle accent. "That's just fine, dawlin'. You take care of this fine man and I'll wait right here."

"Okay," said Constance.

Dean shook his head. The sooner he could get away from these crazy hunters, the better. Constance stood up and motioned towards an orderly Dean hadn't seen there before.

Dean groaned. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Something wrong?" asked Constance.

"No," said Dean, glaring at the orderly. "Nothing at all."

It was freaking **Crowley**. Dean could see it now. He wanted to make sure Sam and Dean worked for him, so he got Dean out of the way because he knew he would eventually say no to working for him. This was Crowley's way of forcing Sam's hand.

_Good luck with that Crowley,_ Dean thought. _Did you forget you're holding his soul hostage?_

But, still, Sam was visiting him today. So, Crowley's plan just fell through.

Dean glared at Crowley as he approached to escort him and Constance to Dean's room. Crowley looked at Dean, and Dean could swear he saw a smirk on his face. Dean gave him a look that said he knew what Crowley was up to.

Constance unlocked the door to the patient corridor, escorting Crowley and Dean through it and locking it.

"And, Constance, can I eat in my room today?" asked Dean. "I'm feeling a little tired."

"Of course," said Constance. "After last night, I don't blame you."

She led them through the hall, unlocking Dean's door. Dean walked into it, flopping down on the bed.

"Thanks, Constance," said Dean.

"Get some rest," said Constance, closing the door.

Dean closed his eyes, deciding to take a nap before lunch.

******************************************SN***********************************

Dean awoke when someone knocked on the door. Dean sat up as Constance walked in with a lunch tray. She left the door open as Alistair stood watch just outside in the hall. As Constance set the tray down, someone walked into the doorway, and Dean looked up at him.

Dean's eyes widened. "Sammy?"

Sam stood in the doorway, smiling at Dean. "Hey, Dean."

Constance looked up at Dean, following his gaze towards Sam. She looked back at Dean, smiling.

"Enjoy your lunch, Dean," said Constance.

Sam stepped into the room, heading for a corner to get out of her way. Constance walked to the doorway and closed the door behind her.

"Oh, man, thank God you're here," said Dean, walking toward Sam and wrapping him in a quick, tight hug. He pulled away from him and looked him in the eye. "You have no idea what these psychos are doing. I mean, it's been a nightmare."

Sam winced. "I'm sorry, Dean. It must be hell."

"Well, not literally," laughed Dean. "We both know that better than anyone. But close. Not that you care, of course. Come on, let's bust me out."

"Dean…" said Sam, bracing his hands on Dean's shoulders.

"What?" asked Dean.

_Is that actual compassion in Sam's eyes? No, it's impossible._

"Dean, listen to me," said Sam. He guided Dean backwards, sitting him down on the bed. Sam sat down next to Dean. He took a deep breath. "I can't get you out."

Dean grimaced. "Dammit, I was afraid of that. Well, figure out a way to get through to Cas. He'll get me out of here."

"No, Dean," Sam quickly said. He fidgeted uncomfortably on the bed, looking awkward.

_What is with this? He knows I know. He doesn't have to pretend with the emotions._

"Dean, the world you think you're from…it's not real," Sam told him.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Dean…the doctors and nurses weren't lying," said Sam. "This world is real. You're schizophrenic. The supernatural does not exist."

Dean shook his head. "No, not you, too."

Sam gently placed his hands on Dean's shoulders. "Dean, it's me, your brother. You need to listen to me. You have to stop fighting the doctors. You need to get well."

Dean suddenly jumped to his feet, yelling. "What the hell is happening around here? What is wrong with you people! They're demons! They're playing you! You have no idea what a nightmare this place is, Sammy! They drugged me and tied me down—They electro-shocked me! I don't belong here, Sam! Get that through your brainwashed skull!"

Dean was shocked to see that Sam's eyes were starting to get shiny with tears.

"Dean, I'm not brainwashed," Sam told him, standing up and approaching him. "This is the way it's always been. You imagined this hunting life and that our entire lives we were raised that way, and you imagined that I—"

"Liar!" Dean yelled. He stared at Sam, eyes widening. "You're lying…and you're pretending you care about me, but you don't. You can't. You don't have a soul. Quit pretending!"

Sam's tears were beginning to fall down his face. "Dean, please. I hate seeing you this way. Please listen to me."

Dean stared at his brother, suddenly understanding. It explained everything. Sam had been working with Crowley behind Dean's back. They found purgatory, freed all these creatures, and Crowley raised the humans. Then Sam teamed with Crowley to go after Dean and get him out of the way. After all, Sam said it himself, he doesn't care about Dean.

"You soulless son of a bitch," growled Dean. "You did this, didn't you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean, it's not—"

"Don't lie to me!" Dean yelled. "You don't give a crap about me, so you decide to get me out of the way!"

"Dean, it's not true!" said Sam.

"Get out," said Dean.

"Dean—"

"Get out!" yelled Dean as loud as he could.

The door opened, and Constance rushed into the room.

"Dean, are you alright?" asked Constance.

Dean glared at Sam, and Sam looked sadly back at him. Sam nodded, wiping the tears from his face, and turned, leaving.

Dean looked down at Constance. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" asked Constance.

"Yeah, I just want to rest," said Dean.

Constance nodded and left the room, closing the door. Dean sat on the bed, head in his hands.

_What am I gonna do?_ Dean wondered. _Sam turned on me, Cas is brainwashed…I don't know what to do…_

Dean's last hope of escape had just vanished; it was time to case the joint, since Sam sure as hell wasn't helping him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Another knock woke Dean from his peaceful—somewhat peaceful—sleep.

_Ugh, what do they want now?_ Dean thought as he sat up. _A little time to myself; is that too much to ask?_

Ruby opened the door and walked into the room.

"Come on, Dean," said Ruby. "Your visitor is here."

Dean stared at her. "Another visitor?"

Ruby smiled. "Come on, he's waiting."

Dean frowned, but climbed to his feet and followed Ruby and Azazel down the hall. Dean sincerely hoped this visit went better than the other. Sam's tear-stained, lying face was still implanted at the front of Dean's mind.

They led Dean through the halls and the common room, opening the final door along a wall in the common room. It led to a room half the size of the common room, containing a couple couches and tables. There were only three other people here: Alistair standing at the back of the room, and Ed Zedmore and someone in civilian clothes that Dean didn't recognize.

They led Dean to a couch, and he sat down.

"I thought you said he was waiting for me," said Dean.

"He's outside," said Ruby. "He'll be in here in a few minutes."

Dean nodded, understanding why he had to be brought in first. With the treatments and schedule the patients have, they could get agitated and nervous when moved around. They were allowed to cool off and adjust in the meeting room before their visitors were allowed in.

As Ruby left and Azazel stayed to watch over Dean, Dean glanced over at Ed.

"Come on," said Ed, begging the man with him. "I gotta get this bookin' movie deal. It'll blow my whole career open."

"Ed," said the man, "no one wants your idea. Trust me, I've tried to sell it to them."

"But it's an amazing story!" said Ed. "It's about—" The man looked exasperated, as if he'd heard it a million times before. "No, hear me out! This planet is about to explode, so this guy sends his son to earth. The kid gets raised by a couple on a farm, developing these super powers, and grows up to become a superhero who works at a newspaper as a mild-mannered reporter. That's his disguise!"

"Ed," said the man slowly. "That story already exists. It's called Superman."

Ed's face fell. "Oh…" His face brightened in excitement. "Oh, wait, an idea just came to me! There's this guy who's a marshal, and he goes to this island where an insane asylum is. He goes to investigate a patient who supposedly disappeared—"

Dean laughed as he looked down at his hands. _Wow, Ed, that is special…_

His limbs twitched as the crawlies surged up again. The door in the wall opposite him opened, and Bobby walked in.

"Bobby?" asked Dean, standing.

The door closed as Bobby walked up to him.

"It's good to see you, boy," said Bobby with a smile. He embraced Dean in a hug.

Dean embraced him tight. "Thank God you're here."

They pulled away from each other and sat on the couch.

"Sam's lost it, Bobby," said Dean. "Cas, too."

Bobby sighed. "Dean—"

"I mean, the bastard actually sold me out to Crowley," said Dean. "That's probably how Cas got brainwashed. I mean, other than me, no one knows Cas better. Sam would be able to find a way to get to him."

"Dean—" Bobby tried again.

"I mean, I know Sam doesn't have a soul, but I really don't see how this would fit in with being a good hunter," Dean went on. "It's not that he's evil, just without morals. But this is going overboard, don't you think? I can't do anything or go anywhere without having a demon or creature watching me."

"Dean, slow down," Bobby finally got out.

Dean looked at him, seeing him properly for the first time. None of his clothes looked grungy. His shirt and pants didn't have holes or tears, and his beard was shaved. Still had a mustache, but no beard. His hat—no wear and tear—was firmly in place on his head.

"Dean, Sam has not lost it," said Bobby. "You have."

Dean dropped his head. _Man, I cannot catch a break._

"Not you, too, Bobby," Dean muttered, looking up at him.

"Dean, take a look around you, boy," said Bobby. "How do you explain all this?"

"Kidnap and torture, that's what," snapped Dean. "How else do you explain electro-shocking someone who's not insane? I know I killed most of these guys, but really, enough is enough."

"Dean, the only people you've killed are those three girls six years ago," said Bobby.

Dean flinched, hating that Bobby thought that was who he was.

"Bobby, that's not me," Dean pleaded. "I could never do that. I mean, yeah, I could—but not like that. I only kill evil things—things that kill people. You know that! Hell, you've been hunting since before I was born!"

"Dean, we are not hunters," Bobby told him.

"Yes, we are," Dean insisted, hoping he could maybe break through to Bobby. "You've got to see that! Somewhere deep down, you know it's true! This isn't right! They kidnapped me, Bobby!"

"Dean, your dad committed you here," said Bobby. "We both did."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"John and I talked it out, and we decided it was the best thing for you," said Bobby. "We just want you to get better."

"Like you care," Dean spat out, fed up with the whole thing. "You're not even family." He looked down at his twitching hands.

"I am," said Bobby.

Dean looked at him. "What?"

"I am family," Bobby told him. "I'm your uncle."

"I know we called you Uncle Bobby when we were younger, but you're not blood," said Dean.

Bobby looked him in the eyes. "My last name isn't Singer; it's Campbell." Dean frowned, still staring at him. "I'm Mary's brother."

Dean shook his head. "Mom was an only child."

"She was my sister," said Bobby. "She and John named me your godfather." Dean still shook his head. "Why do you think you refer to me as a surrogate father? Because I helped John raise you after Mary died."

"No," said Dean, his face stern. "It's not true! Mom never had siblings!"

"Dean, you're not the only one who lost someone that night," Bobby told him.

"No!" Dean yelled, jumping to his feet. "Stop! You're lying!"

Azazel rushed forward, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, why don't we calm down?"

Dean looked at Azazel and back at Bobby. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to be near either one of them, but which was better? Bobby, who was lying to his face, or Azazel, who wasn't acting at all.

"Get me out of here," Dean muttered to Azazel, glaring at Bobby.

Azazel led Dean back into the common room, heading for his room.

Dean could not explain how alone he felt. Everyone he thought he could count on had been brainwashed or turned on him, and everyone that **could** help him was trapped in here with him. He was completely, utterly and fucking alone…and that was, possibly, the worst thing about the whole ordeal.

Azazel opened the door to his room, and Dean walked inside and sat on his bed. Azazel closed his door as Dean put his head in his hands.

"What am I gonna do?" moaned Dean in a hoarse whisper.

He had no clue where to go from here, and had no one to turn to. He guessed it was time to case the joint, but he honestly had no idea how he would get out if he did. The meds put him in no shape to even attempt a breakout. The demons and creatures, and maybe even Bobby, Sam and Castiel would stop him and lock him back up.

Dean couldn't believe all these people and creatures had been tricked into thinking Dean was crazy. And then a thought occurred to him that Dean was horrified to find his mind listening to:

_What if it's not **them**? What if it's **him**?_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The next three days passed by in a confused haze.

Dean had asked to spend the rest of his night in his room after Bobby's visit. He had spent the night fighting through his memories to see where any cracks might be to support everyone's story. The only images and sounds that kept coming back to him were memories of the life he'd always known. There were no clues or hints that let Dean know it was all fake.

It was possible that there **weren't** any clues; schizophrenia could be very extreme at times. But wouldn't Dean have noticed **something** that didn't fit?

Dean spent the first day watching his surroundings, renewing his outlook on the place. When Meg and Jack and Gordon came to take him to his shower, Dean studied them very carefully. They acted like humans. No demonic tendencies, no anger issues, no hunger for flesh, no thirst for blood, not even a rogue, racist hunter. In fact, they had **all** acted like ordinary people the entire time Dean had been there. Usually when a creature tried to fool Dean that they were human, something always happened that tipped Dean off to their true nature. But, so far, nothing. So, either they were **really** good actors…or they really were human.

Dean also paid close attention to his fellow patients. They seemed perfectly normal, not driven to the brink of insanity by whatever supernatural thing had happened to them. Just, regular old crazy.

What if it was true? What if they all were the normal ones and Dean was the crazy one? What if he **had** constructed his entire life based on familiar faces around him? What if he **had** killed those innocent girls?

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from his seat at the voice, looking at the group.

"Hm?" said Dean, his mind still on his confused situation.

"Are you alright, Dean?" asked Dr. Novak from his position in the group session.

Dean looked around to see the other "hunters" watching him. Dean's mind had wandered again in group session. Dean looked up at Dr. Novak, seeing his angel friend looking at him. But he also saw someone who deeply cared about him, someone he only partially recognized.

Dean looked down at his hands, despair and anxiety written all over his face. "I don't know."

"It's the bunnies!" yelled Reggie suddenly, jumping to his feet. "They've gotten to him!"

This sent the group of crazed hunters/mental patients into an aggravated frenzy. It took several orderlies, Dr. Novak, and, in Rufus' case, a sedative before the patients were calmed and returned to their rooms.

All through Reggie's outburst and subsequent riot, Dean had remained in his chair, watching the proceedings with detached interest. He just did not know what to do. His confusion rendered him unable to care much about anything.

The orderlies had left him there as they escorted the patients away. Dr. Novak approached him just as the last patient left the room.

Dr. Novak sat down next to him as he stared at the floor. "Are you okay?"

Dean slowly shook his head, still staring at the floor.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dr. Novak asked.

Dean looked up at him, eyes wide and disoriented. "I mean, which sounds more plausible? That demons managed to bring all these people and creatures back to life and turned my brother against me and brainwashed Bobby and Castiel and broke down all those hunters to capture me…or I really am crazy?"

Dr. Novak winced. "I prefer the term 'ill.'" He looked at Dean for a moment, thinking. "Which do **you** think sounds more plausible?"

"That's just the thing: I don't know," Dean admitted. "I mean, demons can do that. They can trick you and brainwash people and break them down. But then again, **everyone** I know? **Everyone** I've saved? There would probably be an easier way to break me. And Sam…I mean, he was probably just acting…but I could have sworn those tears were real."

"Dean," said Dr. Novak, "why don't you just get some rest and think it over?"

Dean nodded and climbed wearily to his feet.

Dr. Novak led him through the common room. "I'm glad to hear this, Dean. This means your mind is beginning to heal."

"But if I really did hallucinate my whole life, why don't I remember any of the real thing?" asked Dean.

"The answer is in your question," said Dr. Novak, leading him into the corridors. "You were hallucinating. Give it time, Dean. Your mind will eventually remember. It will take quite some time, but I have high hopes for you."

Dr. Novak opened Dean's door, and Dean sat on his bed.

"Just keep working things out in your mind," said Dr. Novak. "Everything will work out."

Dr. Novak closed the door, leaving Dean to his sleep.

Dean had spent the rest of the day in there. The second day had come and gone, with no remarkable incidents—unless you counted the breakdown in the shower.

Casey had been washing him—Dean too distraught and conflicted to care—while Dean tried to piece things out in his mind. His mind fought his heart with the truth until, finally, he couldn't take it anymore. With a pathetic whimper, Dean had collapsed to his knees, much to the surprise of Casey. Dean's knees had connected painfully with the hard tile as his chin dropped to his chest. The water ran down his face as Casey knelt down in front of him. Small hands cupped his face and brought it up so she could see him. Casey had a look of deep concern on her face.

"Dean, what is it?" asked Casey.

Dean's throat was tight and aching as the tears came, leaving him unable to voice his anguish. His shoulders shook as the sobs came, his body growing limp from emotional exhaustion.

Casey didn't hesitate, but pulled Dean into her arms, cradling his head on her shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, Dean," Casey soothed.

Dean was hesitant about accepting her comfort; she was supposed to be a demon. But, if this story they told him was real, then she was just a nurse who was trying to make him feel better. Dean would take what he could get.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, gripping the back of her scrubs as he let the sobs come.

"Shh, honey, it's okay," Casey soothed as she rubbed his back consolingly.

Dean was already starting to feel better as Casey comforted him. No wonder Dean hadn't wanted Sam to kill her. She was the nicest nurse here. As the sobs and tears subsided, Dean took a deep breath.

"Sorry," said Dean.

Casey gently pulled away from him, hands on his shoulders. "About what?"

"Your clothes," said Dean, looking down at her scrubs.

"Oh, sweetie, it's just water," said Casey. "It'll dry. Are you okay?"

Dean nodded, and Casey helped him to his feet to finish the shower. She had spent the rest of the day with him to keep him company after seeing Dean's state of mind that morning. In the common room, they struck up a conversation about Dean's "world." True, everyone knew Dean's situation, but none of them knew the whole story.

"So I made the deal, and that was that," said Dean.

"Then a year later, you went to hell?" asked Casey.

Dean nodded, those memories still somewhat fresh in his mind, especially with Sam's recent excursion—and current soul imprisonment.

_God, what Sam must be going through down there,_ Dean thought. _Then again, if that was a delusion, then Sam's soul was still safe in his body here—never having experienced hell._

Casey placed a hand on Dean's hand. "You did all that for your brother?"

Dean looked up at her. "Well, yeah. He's my brother. He's the only one I have left. My dad told me to look after him. It's my job to keep him safe. Of course, I was gonna trade places with him. I couldn't let him die. And I'd do it again if I had to…I almost did."

"When he jumped into hell?" asked Casey.

Dean nodded. "That whole year, I wanted to save him, but…I'd promised him to leave it alone, so I did…mostly."

"And then you found out he had been back the whole time?" asked Casey.

Dean smiled. "Yeah…the little bitch…Couldn't even pick up the phone and let me know. I don't blame him, of course. Not his fault Crowley brought him back without a soul."

Casey smiled. "Tell me about Sam. Before he didn't have a soul."

Dean frowned. "You've never met him?"

Casey shook her head. "No."

Dean nodded. "Always visited on your day off, huh?"

Casey smiled, but didn't say anything.

Dean smiled, taking a deep breath. "The most stubborn guy I know, just like Dad. He reminded me so much of Dad. But, unlike Dad, Sam never wanted this hunting life at first. He wanted to be normal. You know, friends, girlfriend, go to college…It was so hard while he was at Stanford. I wanted to drop by and take him with me…It was like I lost a piece of myself."

Casey smiled sadly, still holding his hand.

"When he finally got back into hunting," Dean continued, "I was so happy to have him back. Over the past few years, he's really grown into hunting. And he grew up. He didn't need me anymore. He was so independent…Sometimes, he reminded me of me."

Casey smiled again, clasping his hand tighter. "Well, I'm glad you had someone there for you…even if it was all a delusion."

Dean nodded as Casey released his hand.

Dean had relaxed the rest of that second day, giving his mind a break from trying to sort things out.

The third day came much calmer for Dean. That wasn't to say his mind had figured things out—he was still confused as hell—but he didn't feel a breakdown coming any time soon.

It was about halfway to lunch, and Dean found himself in the common room, watching "Titanic." Harry Spengler was in the corner, drawing on a pad of paper and telling "Rose"—Hope, who still sat on the couch—how much he loved her.

_Man, I can't wait to see what happens if we end up watching "Hannah Montana" or something,_ Dean thought with a smile.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head, looking up to find Sam standing behind him. Dean's mouth hung open as he stood to face Sam.

"Sammy?" asked Dean.

Sam smiled sadly, unease apparent in his stature. "Hey."

Dean was torn. He had two possibilities: soulless Sam had sold him out and trapped him here, or Sam was visiting him at the asylum. Dean decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; Sam would do the same for him.

Dean walked around the chair, embracing Sam in a hug. Surprised, Sam hesitated before returning the gesture. Dean pulled away from him, spotting a couple nurses over Sam's shoulder, staring at them.

_Oh, come on,_ Dean thought. _You've never seen two brothers hug before?_

"I'm glad you're here, Sammy," said Dean.

Sam frowned. "I thought I was a soulless son of a bitch."

"You might still be," Dean told him. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

Sam guided them to two of the chairs in front of the TV. Sam glanced at the screen.

"'Titanic'?" he said with a glance at Dean, his tone sarcastic. "Well, you must be in heaven."

Dean laughed. "I know, right? They could at least cater to the fact that most of us are not teenage girls."

Sam laughed. "Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

Dean nodded. "Yeah…Not that I'm saying I trust you yet or anything, but…I'm sorry about the other day."

"Me, too," said Sam. "I should've handled that better."

"Handled what better?"

"You coming to," Sam told him. Dean frowned. "Dean, you have never lucidly interacted with anyone since you got here. You have never once acknowledged that you were in a mental hospital. Dr. Novak called me right away to tell me. Took me a week to get things wrapped up where I was and get here to set up a meeting time."

"Wrap things up?" asked Dean. "Wait, let me guess: Stanford?"

"Yeah, like four years ago," said Sam. "I got my law degree in 2007."

"You're a lawyer?" asked Dean in disbelief.

"Yes, in fact—" Sam stopped himself, glancing back at the door to the lobby. "Dean, there's someone I want you to see. Someone who I think can help you make up your mind."

Sam turned, waving at someone on the other side of the door. A nurse was walking from the nurse's station towards the door, opening it to come inside, and the person slipped into the room behind the nurse.

Dean stared at her in shock. _No, it couldn't be…_

The girl smiled at Sam, walking towards them. She weaved her way through the patients, nurses and orderlies, approaching Sam as he stood.

"Hey," smiled Sam, kissing her. He looked at Dean. "Dean, this is—"

"Jessica?" asked Dean, standing.

Sam smiled. "I knew you'd remember her." Dean looked at him. "You've met her before, back in November 2005." Dean nodded. "I wanted you to meet her now that you're lucid."

Dean smiled at Jessica. "Hi."

Jessica smiled back at him. "I'm so happy you're awake now."

Dean shook his head, confused. _So I've supposedly been in this "other world" until two weeks ago when I woke up here?_

He didn't know what to make of this information. His mind was still convinced he was being held captive, but stuff kept popping up to prove the contrary.

"After our meeting Monday, I knew I had to get through to you somehow," said Sam.

"Well, I gotta say, the girlfriend definitely helps your case," said Dean. "Especially since she's supposed to be dead."

Sam looked at Jessica and back at Dean. "Wife."

Dean looked at him. "What?"

Sam clasped Jessica's hand. "We're married, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened as he looked down at their clasped hands. He could see a silver band on Sam's ring finger. He looked over at Jessica's left hand to see two rings: one with a small diamond and one that was just a silver band.

Dean looked up at him, a smile on his face. "How long?"

"Five years," said Sam with a smile. He pulled out his wallet, opening it and pulling out several small pictures. "Here."

Dean took the photos, looking at them. It was Sam—with that ridiculous bangs-across-his-forehead haircut he'd had five years ago—and Jessica wearing a tux and wedding gown, kissing on the altar. It was Sam and Jessica cutting the wedding cake. It was Sam and Jessica waving from the back window of a limo that read "Just Married" across the bumper.

Dean looked up at Sam. "These look legit."

Sam laughed. "They are legit."

Dean handed them back, frowning. "I don't know, Sam. I just…I'm having a hard time believing this. I—I don't remember any of this…this life you guys keep talking about. Don't you think I'd remember **something**?"

Sam nodded sadly. "Tell you what, why don't we let you rest now, and I'll be back in a couple days?"

Dean nodded, watching him carefully. "Okay."

Sam nodded, giving Dean one last hug. He took Jessica by the hand and headed towards the lobby door. They stopped next to it, and Sam looked back once more and waved at Dean. A nurse approached the door, opening it, and Sam and Jessica walked into the lobby. The nurse closed the door, heading for the nurse's station.

Dean watched Sam and Jessica until they disappeared out of sight. Meg, who had been watching the whole encounter, walked over.

"Are you alright, Dean?" asked Meg.

Dean nodded. "Can I go back to my room?"

Meg smiled. "You're sure sleeping a lot lately."

"I can't help it if those meds you're force feeding me make me tired," said Dean.

Meg led Dean back to his room where he collapsed onto the bed.

And he dreamed…

_Dean sat in the common room, staring straight ahead. Sam walked up to him, sitting next to him on the couch._

"_Dean, can you hear me?" Sam asked._

_Dean turned his head and looked at him. "Okay, alright, we gotta talk."_

_Sam's face brightened. "Yeah, sure, Dean, whatever you want."_

"_If I'd have called, would you have picked up?" Dean asked, off in his own world._

_Sam sighed, his face falling. "Dean, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Sam looked at a blonde girl, who walked over to stand in front of the couch. Dean turned his head towards her. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."_

_Dean smiled, looking at her shirt. "I love the Smurfs."_

_Jessica looked over at Sam, confused._

"_You know, I gotta tell you," Dean continued. "You are completely out of my brother's league."_

"_You see, Jessica, he's kind of—" began Sam._

"_No, no, no," said Dean. "I wouldn't dream of it…seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but, uh, nice meeting you."_

"_He's kind of off in his own world," said Sam. "He can't really interact with us."_

"_Okay," said Dean. "Um…Dad hasn't been home in a few days."_

_Sam looked over at Dean, frowning. "Okay, this is new." He looked at Dean closely, waiting for what he might say next._

_Dean nodded a little. "Dad's on a __**hunting**__ trip…and he hasn't been home in a few days."_

_Sam looked at Jessica. "From what the doctors tell me, he thinks he and our dad are hunting while I'm at college. Why would he suddenly make Dad go missing?"_

"_You're not hearing me, Sammy," said Dean. Sam looked at him. "Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him."_

_Sam waited while Dean "listened" to the Sam he thought he was talking to._

"_Not for this long," said Dean. "Now you gonna come with me or not?" He paused. "Why not?"_

_Dean shrugged. "Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad."_

_Dean stared at Sam a moment, frowning. "Well, what was he supposed to do?"_

_Dean listened for a moment, his face becoming more disbelieving by the second. "Don't be afraid of the dark? What, are you kidding me? Of course, you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"_

_Sam looked up at Jessica. "I guess I should explain Dean's situation."_

_Jessica nodded, and Sam stood up. A nurse walked over to Dean._

"_Dean?" asked the nurse. "You okay?"_

"_Save a lot of people doing it, too," said Dean._

_The nurse nodded as she gripped him by the hands. "Come on, Dean, let's go back to your room."_

"_So, what are you gonna do?" asked Dean as the nurse pulled him to his feet. "You're just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?"_

"_Come on," said Sam, leading Jessica towards the lobby door._

"_And that's why you ran away?" asked Dean with contempt as the nurse began walking him through the common room._

_Sam froze, looking sadly back at Dean when he heard that. He turned to Jessica. "Let's go. I'll tell you the whole story."_

_As Sam left with Jessica, the nurse led Dean to the door to the hallways._

"_Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble now, if he's not dead already," said Dean, imagining a world where he was standing next to the Impala with Sam in Palo Alto. "I can feel it. I can't do this alone."_

Dean jolted awake on his bed, sweating and panting. As he stared into the darkness of his room, his mind held that moment in stunning clarity.

_What the hell is happening to me?_

**I'll have the new chapter up in an hour or so. Enjoy!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Dean sat in the meeting room the next day.

He hadn't gotten back to sleep after that dream. He couldn't figure it out. Had he dreamt a memory, or was it really a dream? After all, a dream was the mind's way of working through issues and problems. What if his mind was just simply working things through, supplying him with images that would provide him with an answer.

He had no way of knowing what to believe. There was no sure way to tell what was real and what wasn't. He knew his mind was starting to give in the whole insane idea, but he knew he couldn't let himself be drawn in. Until he had a sure answer, he had to treat this like a supernatural kidnapping. Because if that's what it turned out to be, and he let his guard down, that would be the end.

For all he knew, they were standing on the other side of those windows, laughing at how easy it was to break him.

"Dean."

Dean looked up to see Bobby standing in front of him. Dean stood up.

"Bobby," said Dean, hugging him.

Bobby sat down next to Dean after they pulled apart.

"You feeling better?" asked Bobby.

"Honestly, no," said Dean. He glanced at the windows and lowered his voice just in case. "I don't know what to think anymore. I mean, my real life is just so crazy. Demons and ghosts and vampires and zombies and werewolves and shapeshifters. And then with Sam's psychic powers. And then we find out that he's supposed to be some army for hell. And then we find out that his powers come from demon blood. And then it turns out that Mom was a hunter and made a deal and that's why Sam is a psychic. And then the angels had it all planned out from the very beginning? And then Sam and I also happen to be the vessels for the prize fight between Michael and Lucifer? I mean, it just seems a little—well, a lot—too coincidental to me. I mean, that entire world is ridiculous. I mean, the number of times Sam and I have died, alone."

Dean looked up at Bobby. "And I had a dream last night. It was Sam bringing Jessica to meet me the first time. I was off in my own world. And I have no way of knowing if it was real. What if my mind was constructing that to take the easy way out? I mean, finding out I'm insane is definitely easier than fighting for that hellhole of a world."

Bobby nodded. "I know this must be hard for you."

"Oh, how would you know?" asked Dean. Bobby sighed, getting Dean's point. "I've got this giant world hanging over my head, waiting for me to decide what to do with it. And I can't let them know that I might be giving in. 'Cause what if it turns out I was right? I give in, and the demons win. Then again, I keep holding out, and everyone else was right, I'm not getting any better."

"Dean, this is a major breakthrough for you," said Bobby. "We've all tried so hard to get through to you the past six years. We'd almost given up." Bobby took a breath. "Dean, we almost had you lobotomized."

Dean froze, his breath fleeing him for a moment. "You what?"

"Totally humane, of course; anesthesia and everything," said Bobby. Dean stared at him, horrified. "Dean, you have to understand…you were violent. With John's military training, you would fight back every week. You were a danger to yourself and those around you. I can't count how many times they had to sedate and restrain you. We couldn't make you better, and you kept hurting people. You had to be taken care of."

"What, just fix me like a broken car?" said Dean. "He's not working like you want, so let's just switch him off?"

"Dean—" said Bobby.

"What else did they do?" asked Dean.

"Nothing."

"How long have they been doing electro-shock?" asked Dean.

"A year," Bobby answered. "You weren't responding to it…until now."

Dean looked down at his hands. _Could it be true? Could the treatment have worked and that's why I woke up here?_

"Dean, don't think about this right now," said Bobby. "Just give yourself time and I'll visit again tomorrow, okay? Maybe I'll have more answers."

Dean nodded, and Bobby climbed to his feet with Dean. Gordon led Dean to the common room as Bobby left. As Dean headed through the room, he spotted some people in white coats congregated in the lobby.

_Oh, that's just peachy…_

He recognized all the doctors, too. There was Zachariah…and Uriel…and Anna…and Joshua…and—_Holy crap…—_Gabriel.

"Hey, Gordo," said Dean. Gordon looked over at him. "Who are those guys?" He pointed at the doctors.

"They're doctors," said Gordon.

"Well, duh," said Dean. "I kinda got that from the white coats. I meant their names."

"Well," said Gordon, pointing at Zachariah, "that's Dr. Adler." He pointed at Anna. "That's Dr. Milton." He pointed at Uriel. "That's Dr. Wisdom." He pointed at Joshua. "That's Dr. Brown." He pointed at Gabriel. "And that's Dr. Speight."

Dean nodded. "Wonderful." He watched Dr. Novak walk up to the doctors and talk to them.

_Angels are the doctors, civilians are the patients, hunters are the patients in my group session, demons and creatures are the nurses and orderlies…That's more than just coincidence…_

Gordon led him to the TV area. Dean sat on a chair, letting his mind wander wherever it felt like. Ed stood in the corner, plotting his next move. Harry sat on the couch, trying to set a chair on fire with his heat vision—they'd watching Superman that morning. Jo stood next to Martin, trying to "sell drugs" to him. Martin was trying to ditch her.

Dean's mind was trying to solve his problem as he stared at the floor. He was counting the tiles of the floor when a flash of white spiked through his brain.

Dean moaned, bringing a hand to his head as he closed his eyes. He pressed his fingers to his temple as images flashed across his mind.

"_And you haven't seen anything strange around the neighborhood?" Dean asked the three girls he'd "killed."_

"_No," said Catherine, frowning at him. "No, we haven't."_

But Dean remembered that hunt. What he'd heard was: _"A couple of strange girls half a town over," Catherine said with a smirk._

_Dean frowned at her. "Right. Well, thank you for your time."_

Dean opened his eyes, looking around at the common room and rubbing his forehead.

_Okay, that hurt,_ Dean thought.

No sooner had he thought that than another spike of pain rushed into his head. He moaned, slamming his eyes closed and putting his hands to his head.

"_I'm telling you, Dad," said Dean, driving the Impala. "It's those girls. They're the coven."_

"_And you're sure?" asked John._

_Except, the Impala was actually empty; John was at work._

"_I'm positive," said Dean._

"_Well, go ask them some more questions," said John. "We need to make sure. We don't want to end up killing civilians."_

Dean doubled over, his headache growing. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, what is it?" asked Constance.

"My head," Dean moaned as another spike hit.

_The three girls screamed as Dean barged into their apartment. Dean cornered them in the living room, a hand raised and gun pointed at them._

Dean remembered that; he'd pointed a gun at them as they threatened to use magic against him. But here, there was only screaming girls.

"_Where is it?" Dean yelled. "Where's the altar?"_

"_We don't know what you're talking about!" said Tabby. "We didn't do anything! Please let us go!"_

Dean heard: _"You'll never find it! We'll never tell you!"_

"_Oh, I think you __**are**__ gonna tell me," Dean threatened. "Or my .45 here will have something to say about it."_

_The girls stared wide-eyed at him, looking at his gun._

"_Last chance," Dean threatened, cocking the gun. "Tell me or I start shooting."_

"_No!" screamed Rebecca. "Please don't hurt us!"_

Dean heard: _"Go ahead. Give it your best shot."_

"_As you wish," said Dean, finger tightening on the trigger._

_As he was about to shoot, he suddenly darted to his side, running at the window and falling through it to the ground outside._

Dean remembered the witches flinging him out that window.

"Dean, can you hear me?" asked Constance.

"Something's…something's wrong," Dean moaned. "It's all wrong."

"Dean?" she asked.

Dean yelled as another spike hit, falling to his knees on the floor.

"_Dean, you gotta take care of them," said John. "They have to be dealt with."_

"Dr. Novak! Come quick!"

_Dean snuck along the side of the apartment building, waiting for the three girls to emerge._

"Dean!" said Dr. Novak. "Can you hear me?"

_The three girls walked out of the apartment, laughing with each other. Dean crept out from behind the corner, taking aim. He shot Rebecca in the heart._

"Dean, snap out of it," said Dr. Novak.

"Ah!" Dean yelled at the pain.

_The two other girls screamed, turning to see him advancing on them. Dean's head snapped to the side._

Dean had remembered the witch magically cutting his face.

_Dean looked at Tabby with hate in his eyes, raising his gun._

"_No!" Tabby screamed._

_Dean pulled the trigger, and Tabby fell lifeless to the ground._

"No!" Dean yelled, begging himself to stop.

"Dean, it's not real!" said Dr. Novak.

_Dean turned to Catherine, who was running back towards her apartment. He threw himself to the ground suddenly, imagining more magic used against him. Catherine looked back at him and tripped, falling onto her front._

"No, stop!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, it's not happening!" said Dr. Novak. "Whatever you're seeing, I promise it's not happening!"

_Dean climbed to his feet, looming over Catherine as she tried to crawl away from him on her back. Dean raised his pistol, shooting her._

"No!"

_The cops showed up as Dean was dumping the last of the gas on them. As Dean pulled his lighter out, they tackled him to the ground._

"No!" Dean yelled, wrenching his eyes open.

He was on the floor of the common room, several nurses and Dr. Novak bent over him. Dean lunged out at them, sitting up and trying to get away.

"No, it's not true!" Dean yelled, caught up in the memory. "It's not true!"

Dr. Novak pulled something out of his pocket. "I'm sorry, Dean, but this is for your own good." Dr. Novak pulled the cap off the syringe.

"No!" Dean yelled, fighting the orderlies' hands. "No!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," said Dr. Novak.

He plunged the needle into Dean's neck, and Dean let himself be carried away into blissful unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Dean awoke to the familiar ache and tingles, groaning.

He didn't understand what had happened yesterday.

_Is that what I did?_ Dean wondered. _Is that how I killed those girls?_

He could not know for sure if it was a memory or constructed images. And once again, he had no way of finding out.

Dean slowly opened his eyes, finding someone sitting at the foot of his bed, watching him.

"Hey, Dean," said Sam.

Dean frowned at him. "They let you in here before I was awake?"

Sam smiled. "Thought it'd be best if you saw a familiar face when you woke up."

Dean nodded and sat up, leaning against the wall along the bed.

"I heard about what happened yesterday," said Sam. "You had a flashback, didn't you?"

Dean looked down at his hands. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, I mean, for all I know, my mind was just making it up," said Dean, confused. "I have absolutely no way of finding out if it was real or if my mind is just fucking with me—"

Dean stopped, replaying the dream over in his head. And suddenly, he had a way to find out the truth.

"Wait," said Dean. He looked up at Sam. "The cops tackled me before I could light the match."

Sam nodded.

"The cop who tackled me…my height, brown hair, long scar on his left jaw?" said Dean.

Sam nodded again, reaching under his seat and pulling out an old newspaper. He held it out to Dean, who took it and looked at the front page.

"THREE GIRLS KILLED BY MADMAN."

The picture was of the cops handcuffing Dean on the hood of a cruiser while the three bodies lay under tarps behind them. And the cop handcuffed Dean…the one Dean saw in his dream.

Dean began reading the article:

"College seniors Rebecca Smith (21), Tabby Reskill (22) and Catherine Dents (21) were murdered at 10:17 p.m. yesterday. The suspect in question, 26-year-old Dean Winchestser, was found at the scene dowsing their bodies in gasoline and salt. Mr. Winchester had shot each of them with a .45, claiming that they were powerful witches. Mr. Winchester has since been diagnosed with schizophrenia, living in a fantasy world of his own making. He claims he and his family are hunters who kill supernatural creatures, and that he needed to 'salt and burn the bones' to prevent them from becoming angry spirits. Authorities arrived and apprehended…"

Dean closed his eyes.

So now he knew. It was true…all of it. His dreams—no, memories—now supported the whole story.

Dean looked up at Sam. "But it's nuts!"

Even now that he had proof, he didn't **want** to believe it.

"And it's the truth," said Sam.

"Yeah, but—I…it isn't…" Dean stuttered. "I can't—"

Sam put a hand on Dean's knee. "I know." Tears began creeping down Sam's face. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean saw the guilt, the sympathy, the pure compassion and empathy in Sam's face. Dean knew his brother better than anyone, almost better than himself. He had always been there with Sam every step of the way—except for the time at Stanford, but he liked to think he'd been there in spirit. He knew when Sam was happy, when Sam was in pain, when Sam was sad, when Sam was pissed, when Sam was fighting with Dad, when Sam wasn't himself…So it was safe to say he knew Sam like he knew himself.

Those tears, that face…he wasn't faking that.

"It's really you, isn't it?" Dean asked.

For the first time since he'd woken up, Dean saw hope shine on Sam's face.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me," said Sam with a smile.

Dean smiled at him. "I missed you, man."

Sam laughed. "I'll bet. A year gone and then you find out I don't have a soul."

Dean laughed and then trailed off, an uncertain look on his face.

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"I'm just having a hard time accepting all this," said Dean. "I mean, I was taught…well, I thought I was taught my whole life to never give in, to fight no matter what, and now…it's all fake? I don't know, Sammy."

Sam took a deep breath. "Dean, there's something I have to tell you—"

Someone knocked on the door. Sam and Dean looked at the door and back at each other before looking at the door.

Ruby opened the door, smiling at Dean. "I see you're awake now. Dr. Novak thought it best that your visitors meet you in here."

Dean glanced at Sam and back at Ruby. "Visitors?"

Ruby stepped aside, and Bobby walked into the room. Sam and Dean smiled at him.

"Hey, Bobby," said Dean.

"Hey," said Bobby, heading towards the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," said Dean.

Sam stood as Bobby walked over. As Bobby sat, Sam grabbed another chair and sat across from the head of the bed.

Dean looked up at the door to see it was still open. Alistair stood in the doorway, making sure Dean didn't run.

"Your doctor told me you had an episode," said Bobby.

"He had a memory flashback," said Sam.

"Yeah, that's right," said Dean. "I remembered the night…with the three girls…"

Bobby nodded. "I told you I would have answers."

Dean nodded.

"Well, there's only one person who can give them to you," said Bobby. He turned toward the doorway.

Alistair stepped back and let someone step into the room.

Dean slowly climbed to his feet, eyes wide. "Dad?"

John smiled at him. "Hey, Dean."

Dean's jaw had dropped as he walked toward John. "I don't believe it…"

Dean wrapped his father in a hug as John hugged him just as tightly. Tears formed in Dean's eyes as he held onto his father. John pulled away from Dean, his hands on his shoulders. Tears were in his eyes as well.

"It's been so long since I've seen you like this," said John.

"Why didn't you visit earlier?" asked Dean.

"Bobby and I agreed it was best I didn't come for a while," John explained, "since you thought I was dead."

"I can't believe you're alive," said Dean with a smile.

"Well, I am," said John. "Why don't you sit down, son? There's something I need to tell you."

Dean frowned and turned towards his bed. He shrugged at Sam and sat on his bed, one leg folded in front of him as he faced the door, and one leg hanging over the side.

"Dean," said John, "there's some people I want you to meet."

John motioned into the hallway, bringing two people into the room and the door closing behind them. Dean stared at the blonde woman and young, brown-haired man.

"Dean, this is my wife Kate," said John, a hand on her shoulder. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And this is our son Adam."

Dean stared at them. "Adam?"

Adam smiled at him. "Hey…bro."

Dean looked at John. "They were real?"

"Well, the people in your other life weren't made up," said John. "They were based on your real life." John paused. "You imagined that I had a relationship with Kate and fathered a child. You felt I had betrayed your mother by marrying someone else, so you eventually turned them into monsters." He hesitated again. "I hope that you can now accept them as part of the family."

Dean looked down at his hands, still thinking.

"Come on, Dean," said Sam. "You know in your heart that this is real. Believe it."

"I don't know if I can," muttered Dean, face distraught.

"Try, Dean," said John. "Please."

"Trust us, Dean," said Sam. "Trust me."

Dean looked around at his family, knowing they were right. Dean gave them a smile, nodding.

"You're right," said Dean.

The five of them breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're all right," said Dean. He looked down at his hands, fingering the hospital band. "I can't really believe it…My whole life has been a lie."

"No, Dean," said John quickly. "Not all of it. You still have us."

"He's right, Dean," said Sam. "We've always been here for you."

"But I'm not who I thought I was!" said Dean. "You have no idea what that feels like! One minute, I was a hunter with a mission and a purpose in life, avenging my mother's murder! And now…now I'm a nutcase in a mental hospital who murdered three innocent girls! How do you think that makes me feel?"

John nodded. "You're right. We can't know what that feels like. I'm sorry you have to go through this, Dean."

"But we're gonna be there every step of the way," said Sam.

Dean smiled, looking over at Sam. "I appreciate it."

"Dean," said Bobby.

Dean looked over at him.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Bobby.

Dean frowned. "What do you mean, who am I talking to? I'm talking to Sam."

Bobby and John exchanged an uneasy look.

"Dean, Sam isn't here," Bobby told him.

Dean stared at him and then looked at Sam. Sam had a sad look on his face. Dean looked back at Bobby and John.

"Not here?" said Dean, motioning towards Sam. "He's sitting right there."

John took a deep breath. "Dean…Sam doesn't exist."

**Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya?**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

**WARNING! Major chick flick ahead...**

THEN

"_Dean," said Bobby._

_Dean looked over at him._

"_Who are you talking to?" asked Bobby._

_Dean frowned. "What do you mean, who am I talking to? I'm talking to Sam."_

_Bobby and John exchanged an uneasy look._

"_Dean, Sam isn't here," Bobby told him._

_Dean stared at him and then looked at Sam. Sam had a sad look on his face. Dean looked back at them._

"_Not here?" said Dean, motioning towards Sam. "He's sitting right there."_

_John took a deep breath. "Dean…Sam doesn't exist."_

NOW

Dean stared at John, unable to think of a reply. Sam, not real? That was impossible. Sam was right there. John had raised the two of them. Even if Mary wasn't killed by a demon, John still handed a six-month-old Sam to him and told him to run outside and don't look back. Why would he say he doesn't exist?

"Are you blind?" said Dean. "He's right there."

"Dean, you never had a brother," said John. "Until Adam, anyway. You were an only child."

"Dad, why are you—" began Dean. "Why are you saying this? You know Sam. He's your son. You gave him to me the night Mom died and told me to take him outside."

"Dean, you imagined him," said John.

Dean shook his head, eyes wide. _No…not this…anything but this…_

"No," Dean muttered.

"Dean, you hallucinated a younger brother," said John.

"I didn't hallucinate anything!" said Dean. "He's real. Can't you see him?"

Dean looked at Sam, who still had that sad look on his face.

"You wanted someone to protect," said John. Dean looked at him. "Having not been able to save your mother, you wanted someone to look after and keep safe…as a way of redeeming yourself for not saving Mary."

"No!" yelled Dean. "It's not true!"

"For years, I thought Sam was just an imaginary friend you would grow out of," said John. "But by the way you interacted with him and how many years you imagined him, I realized it was more serious. But I left it alone. For having been through what you went through, I was grateful you weren't worse off." He paused sadly. "I guess I was wrong."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not hallucinating anything. He's your son, Dad. He studied law at Stanford University. He got his law degree in 2007. He married Jessica. He is sitting…right…here!"

"Dean, Bobby and I have tried to get through to you before," said John. "We tried to make you see that Sam wasn't real. And we thought it worked. But, you couldn't stand to get rid of him, so you simply sent him to Stanford. He wasn't with you anymore, but he stilled existed to you."

Dean looked down at his feet. _This isn't happening…_

"But you couldn't stand to be away from him, so you brought him back into the hunting life, making him the reason the demon went after Mary," said John. "That way, Sam would never leave you again."

"No," Dean muttered, still shaking his head.

"Why do you think Jessica looked so much like your mother?" asked John. "You have to admit, you thought that when you first met her. And then when you came for Sam, you had to draw him back in. So, you killed her off the same way you thought your mother died."

"It happened!" yelled Dean. "It really happened! Ask the nurses! They've seen him! They talked to him!"

"Did they?" asked John. "Did anyone actually interact with him?"

Dean was about to answer with—Of course, they did!—when he stopped, thinking back over the last few days.

The first time Sam visited, Constance had come to give him lunch. Sam had walked into the doorway.

_No one __**let**__ him in; he just walked in when the door was open._

Sam had even gotten out of Constance's way when she began to exit. She hadn't even looked at the doorway until Dean had said something. She had **followed** his gaze to the doorway.

In fact, Constance had only come running back in when **Dean** had shouted, not even giving Sam a glance.

The day Jessica had visited, neither she nor Sam had opened the door to the lobby. They had to wait for a nurse to do it. And it was because that nurse was **using** the door, not because she was opening it for them. She hadn't even held it open. They had slipped in just behind her. They had even steered clear of the patients as they walked through the room.

Meg had watched the whole thing, but her eyes had been on **Dean** the whole time. In fact, when Sam first got there and hugged Dean, a couple nurses were staring at them. But their eyes never fell on Sam; they were watching **Dean.**

Even when Bobby had entered today, Sam had stood as Bobby occupied the chair. Sam had grabbed a second chair to sit in. Bobby hadn't even **looked** at him, hadn't even said hello.

Even when Dean had talked about Sam with other people, none of them had acknowledged the subject of Sam.

After Sam's first visit, Ruby had come to take Dean to meet Bobby, saying his visitor was here.

_Dean stared at her. "Another visitor?"_

_Ruby smiled. "Come on, he's waiting."_

Ruby hadn't even acknowledged Dean's statement that he'd had another visitor.

When Dean had first woken up, he'd asked Casey where Sam was. Casey had completely changed the subject, not mentioning Sam.

When Dean had told Dr. Novak of Sam and how he thought the tears were real, Dr. Novak had changed the subject.

"_Dean," said Dr. Novak, "why don't you just get some rest and think it over?"_

Just this morning when Ruby had let Bobby in, she hadn't even looked at Sam, even when Dean had looked at him.

And the conversation they had been having today…

_John hesitated again. "I hope that you can now accept them as part of the family."_

_Dean looked down at his hands, still thinking._

"_Come on, Dean," said Sam. "You know in your heart that this is real. Believe it."_

"_I don't know if I can," muttered Dean, face distraught._

"_Try, Dean," said John. "Please."_

"_Trust us, Dean," said Sam. "Trust me."_

_Dean looked around at his family, knowing they were right. Dean gave them a smile, nodding._

"_You're right," said Dean._

_The five of them breathed a sigh of relief._

"_You're all right," said Dean. He looked down at his hands, fingering the hospital band. "I can't really believe it…My whole life has been a lie."_

"_No, Dean," said John quickly. "Not all of it. You still have us."_

"_He's right, Dean," said Sam. "We've always been here for you."_

"_But I'm not who I thought I was!" said Dean. "You have no idea what that feels like! One minute, I was a hunter with a mission and a purpose in life, avenging my mother's murder! And now…now I'm a nutcase in a mental hospital who murdered three innocent girls! How do you think that makes me feel?"_

_John nodded. "You're right. We can't know what that feels like. I'm sorry you have to go through this, Dean."_

"_But we're gonna be there every step of the way," said Sam._

_Dean smiled, looking at Sam. "I appreciate it."_

"_Dean," said Bobby._

_Dean looked over at him._

"_Who are you talking to?" asked Bobby._

What had really happened…

_John hesitated again. "I hope that you can now accept them as part of the family."_

_Dean looked down at his hands, still thinking. He waited for a moment._

"_I don't know if I can," muttered Dean, face distraught._

"_Try, Dean," said John. "Please."_

_Dean looked around at his family, knowing they were right. Dean gave them a smile, nodding._

"_You're right," said Dean._

_The four of them breathed a sigh of relief._

"_You're all right," said Dean. He looked down at his hands, fingering the hospital band. "I can't really believe it…My whole life has been a lie."_

"_No, Dean," said John quickly. "Not all of it. You still have us."_

"_But I'm not who I thought I was!" said Dean. "You have no idea what that feels like! One minute, I was a hunter with a mission and a purpose in life, avenging my mother's murder! And now…now I'm a nutcase in a mental hospital who murdered three innocent girls! How do you think that makes me feel?"_

_John nodded. "You're right. We can't know what that feels like. I'm sorry you have to go through this, Dean."_

_Dean smiled, looking over at the wall across from him. "I appreciate it."_

"_Dean," said Bobby._

_Dean looked over at him._

"_Who are you talking to?" asked Bobby._

Dean thought back to the way everyone had talked about Sam the past two weeks…

_Dr. Novak sat on his bed. "This bond with Sam is probably the healthiest part of your condition. It gives you a family that will stick with you…"_

_Dr. Novak climbed to his feet, looking down at Dean. "Your family will not be allowed to visit until you calm down."_

He hadn't **actually** said Sam. He said family: John and Adam and Bobby and Kate.

_Steve nodded as they watched "Harry Potter." "This Sam…I've heard you talk about him before."_

Of course he would. Dean had probably hallucinated a visit or two from Sam when Steve was around.

_Casey sat with Dean in the common room._

_Casey smiled. "Tell me about Sam. Before he didn't have a soul."_

_Dean frowned. "You've never met him?"_

_Casey shook her head. "No."_

_Dean nodded. "Always visited on your day off, huh?"_

_Casey smiled, but didn't say anything._

She hadn't acknowledged that Sam visited. She had asked to know more about Sam because she'd never met him. I mean, he couldn't have visited on **all** her days off. Dean had just assumed that was the case.

_Casey smiled again, clasping his hand tighter. "Well, I'm glad you had someone there for you…even if it was all a delusion."_

Dean had assumed that meant his **life** was a delusion, not his **brother**.

_Dean frowned at Sam. "They let you in here before I was awake?"_

_Sam smiled. "Thought it'd be best if you saw a familiar face when you woke up."_

Sam never said **they** thought it'd be best…

"_I heard about what happened yesterday," said Sam._

Sam **heard** about what happened. No one actually **told** him.

Dean himself had said things about Sam the past two weeks…

"_He reminded me so much of Dad…"_

"_It was so hard while he was at Stanford…It was like I lost a piece of myself…"_

"_He was so independent…Sometimes, he reminded me of me…"_

_Dean knew his brother better than anyone, almost better than himself…_

_It was safe to say he knew Sam like he knew himself…_

Dean looked up, turning his head toward Sam. There were tears in Sam's eyes.

"This is what you wanted to tell me, wasn't it?" asked Dean.

Sam nodded slowly.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" asked Dean.

"You had to see it yourself," said Sam. He took a deep breath. "Dean, I am so sorry. I couldn't tell you, but I wanted so badly. You've always been there for me, and I wanted to be there for you."

Dean stared at him. "The whole time…you weren't real?"

"No, Dean," said Sam quickly. "I **was **real. I was **you**."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"I was the scared little boy deep inside of you, begging for someone to take care of him and protect him," said Sam. "You took that insecure, vulnerable part of you, and you turned that into a brother. I've always been with you, Dean…even when you couldn't see me."

"So…I'm talking to myself?" asked Dean.

Sam shrugged. "In a way, yes."

Dean looked at the other four, who were watching him with interest. "And they really can't see you?"

"No," said Sam. "Only you. I'm your own personal bitch."

Dean grimaced as he looked at Sam. "Please don't say that again."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, it's **your **nickname, not mine."

"I think you got that a little backwards," said Dean.

"**You** were the one who came up with them," said Sam. "Not me."

"And yet, you love it, bitch," said Dean, with a smile.

"Jerk," said Sam, also with a smile.

Dean and Sam laughed with each other for a moment. They trailed off uneasily. Dean looked at his hands.

"Now you know everything," said Sam.

"Yeah…" said Dean.

"And now I have to go," said Sam.

Dean's head snapped up. "What?"

"Dean, you don't need me anymore," said Sam. He nodded at John and Bobby. "You have them now. You finally know the truth, and you're getting better. I have to go now."

"No, Sammy," said Dean, putting both feet on the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees. "You can't go. Not now."

"Yes, I can," said Sam.

"I can't do this without you!" said Dean.

"Yes, you can, Dean," said Sam. "You're not that scared little boy anymore. You have no idea how strong you are…You're my hero, Dean." He gave Dean a warm smile. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be in here."

Sam reached a hand forward, placing it on Dean's chest over his heart. Dean looked down at Sam's hand. He knew it wasn't really there, but his brain told him he was seeing and feeling the heavy weight on his chest.

"But you gotta let me go, Dean," said Sam.

Dean looked up at Sam, tears running down his face. He slowly nodded, knowing Sam was right. Once he accepted that, Sam's form—along with the chair he was sitting in—began to fade in front of him, the weight of his hand growing lighter.

Dean's eyes widened, part of him still wanting to keep Sam with him. He put a hand over Sam's hand as Sam faded away.

"I'll always be with you, Dean," Sam's voice echoed as he disappeared.

Dean's hand gripped the air over his chest where Sam's hand had been moments ago. He looked up at John, his eyes swimming with tears.

"He's gone…" Dean whispered, brows drawn together in anxiety. "He's actually gone…"

John came forward and sat down next to Dean, pulling his son into an embrace. Dean was stunned for a moment. John had never offered comfort like this since he was ten.

"It's going to be okay, Dean," said John. "He'll never be far from you. You ever feel like something is too much, just ask yourself what Sam would do."

Dean wrapped his arms around his father, sobbing into his shoulder. Dean felt Bobby's hand on his shoulder. They stayed that way for quite some time before Dean calmed down.

John pulled away and placed his hands on Dean's shoulders. "You gonna be alright?"

Dean nodded, a small smile on his face.

"You've had a long day," said John. "We'll let you get some rest."

Dean nodded again as Bobby and John stood, heading for the door with Kate and Adam. Dean pulled the blanket up and climbed underneath it. He leaned on his elbows as John stood at the door Ruby had opened for them, looking back at Dean with a hand on the handle.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" asked John.

"Yeah," said Dean, a small smile on his face. "I think I finally am."

John smiled. "That's good. See you tomorrow."

Dean smiled back at him, settling on the bed. As John closed the door, Dean slipped straight into sleep.

**So that's it...The end...almost. One more chapter to go. Hope you enjoyed it so far.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Dean pulled himself slowly from sleep, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms and legs. He felt very rested and at peace. Sure, his entire life had been a lie and his brother had never existed, but he now had a real life. The monsters and demons and Lucifer and the apocalypse and Dean going to hell and Sam coming back from hell without a soul and everything had never happened. It was all fake. Dean didn't have this fate-this destiny-hanging over his head. The only thing he had to worry about now was getting better.

Dean burrowed further under the covers, pulling the sheet, blanket and comforter closer to his head.

_Comforter?_ Dean thought.

Dean's eyes snapped open.

There was no white ceiling, no white walls, no white floors. He was lying on a bed in a motel room. Dean pulled himself up onto his elbows, looking around.

_What the…_

Dean looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.

_I went to sleep in the mental hospital, right?_

There were no bars on the windows and a door handle on the motel room door. Dean looked around on the floor. On the floor by the table lay three duffle bags. There was also a brown leather jacket—a very familiar leather jacket.

_Dad?_ Dean wondered, looking around for him.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up towards the small kitchen connected to the motel room. Bobby stood in the doorway, watching him.

"Bobby?" asked Dean.

"Hey," said Bobby. "Glad you're awake."

Dean looked down at the duffle bags and up at Bobby. He rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Bobby. Just when I get the idea of escaping out of my head, you have to go and break me out?"

Bobby frowned. "What?"

"Do you have any idea what this does to me?" said Dean, pulling up to a sitting position and leaning against the headboard. "They come to my room to find me gone, they're gonna think I escaped. How did you think this was gonna help?"

Bobby walked over towards the bed, sitting at the table next to it. "Dean, I don't know what you think is going on, but you're—"

"Did you really think this was a good idea?" said Dean. "I was getting better. They were going to release me on their own. Now…now they're gonna hunt me down and put me back in the institution, thinking I lied to them about coming to my senses. You have any idea what they're gonna do to me because of this? Electro-shock, lobotomy…who knows what else?"

Bobby's eyes widened. "Dean—"

"Come on," said Dean, pulling the covers back and putting his feet on the floor. "We gotta get back to the hospital and explain what happened." He climbed to his feet.

Bobby got up and placed his hands on Dean's shoulders, gently forcing him back down onto the bed. "Dean, listen to me for a second." Bobby sat back down in the chair at the table. "Whatever you think is going on, I promise you, it's not—"

The bathroom door opened, and Dean looked over to see someone emerging from it. Dean's eyes widened as he froze.

"No…" said Dean, backing up on the bed until his back hit the headboard. "No, not again…No, this can't be happening…"

"Dean?" asked Sam from the doorway, beginning to head towards him.

"No, it's not real," said Dean, a little more loudly. Sam froze, staring at him in confusion. "I was getting better. This can't be happening…"

"Dean, what is it?" asked Sam.

Dean looked up at Sam, and then quickly looked away from him. "I'm hallucinating again, that's what. I thought I was better. This can't be happening…"

"Dean, you're not hallucinating," said Sam.

Dean looked at him. "Then how do you explain you?"

Sam frowned. "What?"

Dean looked away from him, refusing to look at the mirage. "I'm probably lying in my room, talking to myself. That's great." He looked around the room. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to regress. I don't know how this happened. Somebody get the meds."

Sam and Bobby exchanged glances.

"Dean, you're not in a mental hospital," said Bobby.

Sam looked at him. "A mental hospital?"

Bobby looked at him. "His words, not mine."

Sam looked at Dean. "That must've been where he was." He approached Dean, stopping next to the bed. "Dean, you were never in a mental hospital."

"Says the hallucination," said Dean, glaring at Sam. "Trust me, you can't fool me this time. I already have proof." He leaned toward Sam. "You never existed."

Sam's eyes widened. "That's what you saw? That I never existed?"

Dean looked away from him. "I'm not talking to you. You're not real."

Bobby leaned forward. "Then talk to me."

"You're not real either," said Dean. "Neither of you are. I am sitting in my room." He put his hands to his head, staring at the bedspread. "I'm in my room…I'm in my room."

Bobby reached forward, grabbing Dean's hands. "Dean—" Dean looked up at him. "Dean, you're not in your room. You're here."

Dean looked at Bobby's grip on his wrists. It felt so solid, so real…

Dean wrenched his hands out of Bobby's grip. "No, it's not real."

"Dean, of course it's real," said Bobby. "You have to understand. You've—"

"It's not real," said Dean, staring at the bed. "It's not real."

"Dean!" said Bobby. Dean looked up at him. "You've been catatonic for the past five days."

Dean frowned at him.

"Sam couldn't wake you up, so he called me," said Bobby. "We thought it was Dream Root at first, but then you started convulsing. Dream Root never shows symptoms until the person dies. We found out that it was a djinn. A djinn got to you, and—"

"It's not true," said Dean.

Sam leaned forward. "Tell us what is true, Dean." Bobby looked at him. "Tell us what you think is true."

"I don't think," said Dean. "I know."

"Then tell us what you know, Dean," said Sam.

"Look, you're **my** hallucination, so you already know," said Dean.

"Humor us," said Bobby. Dean looked at him. "What harm could it do?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "My entire life has been a lie. Mom never died from a demon fire. It was a regular house fire. I felt bad for not saving her, so I imagined that a demon killed her so I could kill it. I, apparently, also felt sorry for myself, so I invented a brother to protect. I imagined my whole life that I was a hunter…until I was twenty-six. I killed three girls, thinking they were witches. They locked me in a psychiatric hospital. I took the faces of the nurses, orderlies, patients and doctors and turned them into the monsters, demons, ghosts, civilians, hunters and angels on my cases.

"I woke up there two weeks ago. I thought I was being held there by the demons and ghosts that me and Sam had killed. I thought Cas had been brainwashed and that Sam, not having a soul, had worked with Crowley to put me there. But…it wasn't true. I was just crazy."

"Dean," said Bobby. "Why would you think Cas had been brainwashed?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "What does it matter? It wasn't true."

"Tell us," said Bobby.

"The morning after I woke up, Cas came into the room," said Dean. "He was actually my doctor, Jimmy Novak. I thought he had been brainwashed. But…turns out, I had taken him and turned him into Castiel in my mind."

"Who else was there?" asked Sam.

"Casey—that demon from that boarded up factory town that you shot," said Dean. "Gordon, Yellow-Eyes, Constance—that woman in white, Ruby, Lillith…They were all nurses and orderlies. Zachariah and Anna and Gabriel; all the angels…they were the doctors. Andrea Barr and Hope and Ed Zedmore; everyone we saved or lost on a hunt…they were the patients. And Ash, Ellen, Jo, Rufus; all the hunters we knew…they were in my group session."

"The hunters were patients, too?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah…" said Dean. "Rufus had serious anger issues, Ash kept telling people they stank—not sure what kind of mental disorder that was, Ellen had a royalty complex, Jo had multiple personalities, Martin was extremely OCD, Reggie hallucinated bunnies were after him, Tim thought aliens were after him, Travis had a germ phobia, and Steve was schizophrenic." Dean chuckled. "Oddly enough, he imagined he had a younger brother, too."

Sam nodded. "Huh." He sat down on the bed. "How stupid are you, Dean?"

Dean frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

Bobby glared at Sam. "Sam, ease up."

"Dean, that is the exact plot of _K-PAX_," Sam told him.

Dean frowned. "It is?"

"Yeah," said Sam with a smile. "You were the one who forced me to watch that movie in the first place, remember? Martin being OCD, Travis with a germ phobia, Ash telling people they stink, Ellen with a royalty complex, Jo with multiple personalities, even Tim thinking aliens were after him…The main character of that movie thought he was an alien. And then Steve just happens to be schizo just like you, and just happens to hallucinate a younger brother like you?"

Dean frowned at him.

"And how everything fit perfectly into place?" Sam went on. "The patients were civilians and hunters, the doctors were angels, the nurses and orderlies were monsters…doesn't that fit a little too perfectly? Wasn't there any moment where you thought something was weird?"

In fact, Dean **had** thought it was too big of a coincidence at one point.

Dean shook his head. "No, no. I just got on board the crazy train. You are not convincing me I was right the whole time."

"Dean, think about it," said Sam. "Wasn't that whole scenario too perfectly put together? How everything seemed to fit and have a place to make you think you're insane."

"Sam, come on…" said Dean.

"That is the most complex delusion I have ever heard of," said Sam. "They kept throwing loophole after loophole at you to convince you."

"Yeah, but, it was true," said Dean.

"Look, Dean," said Sam. Dean looked at him. "Does anything seem different about that place now that you're out of it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, quit it." He frowned, shaking his head. "Why am I even talking to you? You're a hallucination. I know Bobby is real—in the real world—but Sam is especially made up."

"Dean, think about it," said Bobby. "It was your worst nightmare, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Pretty close."

"Remember those djinns a couple months ago?" said Sam. "They threw your worst nightmares at you?"

"Yeah, but waking up in an asylum wasn't really one of my 'worst nightmares,' really," said Dean. "The thought crossed my mind, but djinns have symptoms. You notice things from reality. There was nothing. Which means I'm still sitting in my room, talking to myself."

"You weren't attacked by an ordinary djinn," said Sam. "It was the Alpha Djinn."

"So what?" said Dean. "A djinn needs to keep juicing you to keep the illusion going."

"Not the Alpha," said Sam. "Their venom is permanent. And it doesn't show any symptoms. That's why we thought it was Dream Root. But then your body convulsed. I mean, it was the worst seizure I'd ever seen. It was like electricity was running through your whole body."

Dean froze, staring at him. "Electro-shock."

Sam frowned. "What?"

"They did electro-shock after the first week," said Dean.

"And you said you were there for two weeks?" asked Sam. Dean nodded. Sam looked at Bobby and back at Dean. "That was about halfway through your stay. You had that seizure the third day…halfway through your coma. That's how Bobby and I figured out it was a djinn. We called Samuel for the antidote, and he got here last night."

Dean sat up straighter. "You called Samuel? What, are you crazy?"

Sam smiled. "Good to see you believe us now."

Dean shook his head. "I don't. I don't. It's just…" He frowned, unsure what to believe. He couldn't believe he was in this same position…again…forced to choose which life to believe.

Sam grabbed hold of Dean's shoulder with one hand. "Dean, it's us…really."

Dean glanced down at Sam's hand on his shoulder. It felt…solid…more solid than he remembered. Dean reached forward, grasping Sam's shoulder with his hand. The contact felt more real than it had before Dean knew Sam wasn't real. It felt more real than any contact in the other world had been.

Dean looked up at Sam. "Sammy?"

Sam smiled a little. "Finally."

Dean's body sagged in relief. "Thank God I didn't kill innocent people."

Dean looked around, finally recognizing the place. They'd been staying there in the last hunt. Dean looked down at Sam's torso to see bandages peeking out from under his shirt.

_Where I stitched him up,_ Dean thought.

There were bloody rags still in the trashcan by the table from the stitch-up job. Dean looked down at his clothes, recognizing them as the clothes he fell asleep in that night after his shower.

Dean's eyes widened. _Oh, God…a shower…_

"Oh, man," muttered Dean. "Have I really been asleep for five days?"

"Yep," said Sam.

"Okay, I really need a shower," said Dean, grabbing his duffle and heading for the bathroom.

*************************************************SPN****************************************************

Dean sat down on the bed after Bobby left, packing up his bag. Sam sat on the opposite bed, packing his own bag.

"Hey, Dean," said Sam.

Dean looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you're awake," said Sam, trying-and failing-to look sympathetic. "I was worried about you."

Dean chuckled a little. "No, you weren't."

Sam laughed a little, looking down at his bag.

"But thanks for saying it," said Dean.

Sam looked up at him and nodded. "So…next hunt?"

Dean grabbed his bag, climbing to his feet and heading out to the Impala. "Please."

Dean smiled as he peeled out of the parking lot with Sam, AC/DC blaring.

THE END


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNING!**

**Public service announcement!**

I am not quitting fanfiction! I am currently working on printing and binding my current stories for my storage. When I am finished with that, I will work on my stories again.

I will first do a songfic (my first one). Then a season three story. Then a mermaid story. Then Don't You Cry No More 3. Then The Winchester That Wasn't 2. I'm excited about all of them!

I'll see you guys in a few weeks!


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